


Numb, Broken, Lost, Chaotic, Tranquil

by writing_out_my_inner_voices



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood and Gore, Child Abuse, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gore, I saw a chance and I took it, I'm just here for writing the angst, I'm making up a lot of my own events to write this so, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lack of Communication, Mental Health Issues, Mild Gore, Not Canon Compliant, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, Violence, keep that in mind, this does not strictly follow the events in the podcast so far
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:21:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25684195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_out_my_inner_voices/pseuds/writing_out_my_inner_voices
Summary: As things go from bad to worse, Grant feels himself slipping, falling, losing himself to the darkness in his mind.Terry Jr. struggles with newfound magic, and what grief feels like lodged deep in his chest with nowhere else to go.Nick gets lost in memories of times long past, and wishes for a way to have those moments once again.Lark longs for battles and fights to prove himself as strong, capable, powerful, a true force to be reckoned with.Sparrow longs for his gentleness and want for love to be seen not as a weakness, but a strength.The kids search for peace in the midst of chaos, and find that when they fall apart, they can come together even stronger than before. Because their true strength, they find in each other.
Comments: 43
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grant's not okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please double-check the tags before reading this little drabble. 
> 
> Also, spoilers for up to episode 38 so far, just to be safe.
> 
> [Also heads up, but any more writing I do for this piece will not strictly follow the events of the podcast.]

Feeling numb seemed to settle more and more deeply into Grant's stomach, twisting and curling there like a shadowy mass of subtle pain and hurt that was just out of reach whenever he tried to breathe out the words demanding to be heard.

_I'm not okay. I'm not okay._

It started in the stomach of the Chimera, when his body twisted and swirled in darkness that was wet and sloshed with his every movement. For a moment when he was in there, something snapped.

_Is this real? Am I real? Is this a dream?_

Then his world was bright, and the Chimera was ripped open around him, and blood was dripping off of him, and the axe was in his hand. He was shaking. 

His dad's praise starburst near his ear, and floated away from him as he looked down at the gore around him, as emotions bubbled up to the surface, rose, burned like fire in his veins-

Nothing. Just like that, the feelings, the emotions, the fact that he had killed something, indirectly and directly, danger or not, faded, and he just stood where he was, the corners of his vision swimming and going fuzzy.

He felt distant as he felt Darrell's hand settle on his shoulder, barely glanced up at him as he mulled over whatever Darrell-his dad, right, his dad, had said.

"No, yeah, I'm fine."

The words felt fake, but then again, so did he. The blood dripping off of him felt like rain, and he actually glanced up at the sky. No rain. Weird. He glanced down at his hands, the axe, and offered it back to his dad.

"There you go."

"Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem."

His voice didn't feel real either, the words his mouth formed feeling foreign, plucked out of an entirely different realm that he wasn't meant to exist in. 

_Did that really happen?_

His vision swam further, foggy, as he felt out of place in his body. He stared at his hands, at the blood, and carefully wiped them off on his jeans, until they were mostly clean.

_Am I alive right now?_

\-----

The man's head now severed cleanly from his body, Grant felt a spark light up in his chest for a moment.

Relief flooded him for that moment, and he breathed out a sigh. When the calm faded, and it did all too quickly, he clenched his teeth, the adrenaline lost to him just as quickly as it enveloped him.

"Grant, you okay, buddy?"

He glanced up at his father, and nodded, doing a thumbs up.

_I'm not okay._

_I'm not okay._

_I'm not okay._

"Yup. All good here."

The adrenaline faded entirely, and his vision swam into a foggy blur.

_Nothing. All I feel is nothing. Did I even feel anything before now?_

\----

"Oh okay, like as a friend-"

Adrenaline had been sparking up in his chest since he saw Yeet on the screen, or its fantasy realm equivalent, and that brief spark had managed to carry him through everything so far, to now. He didn't want to lose that, didn't want to feel numb, didn't want to feel broken. Not anymore. Words bubbled up despite anxiety gnawing at his gut, fear and hope and relief and exhaustion and desperation carried them out into the air.

"Can I kiss you, maybe?"

Yeet's one eye widened, and Grant felt the spark flicker in his chest.

"Oh, no, I'm not-"

Grant stood up, a broken laugh bursting out of him. The spark flickered in his chest.

_Is this real? God, this is real? I don't want this. I don't want this._

"Wow, this is...awful, and embarrassing-"

"Grant, wait-"

_I'm not okay._

"No, I'm-I'm gonna go. Bye."

Grant tossed the hot dog on the ground, flinched a bit when Yeet stood up after he did, startled and surprised and scared and angry at the world and himself and his dad and everything-

Yeet stared at him, and he felt it, felt the spark flicker just a bit, and just like that, desperation and hope were smothered, replaced with fear.

"Don't go-"

_I'm not okay._

He glanced down, saw one of Yeet's hands outstretched, palm down, glanced up to meet Yeet's gaze.

_Confusion, sympathy, pity-_

_I'm not okay._

With that, the spark faded, and tears fell more out of obligation than out of cause at this point, and he sidestepped Yeet's hand, ducked his head to avoid the other's gaze, the other's pity. 

_I'm so fucking stupid._

"I've got to go."

He hurried back to the locker room, tears still falling as feelings ebbed and flowed in his chest, fading in and out. Then he was in front of the door, and he knew his dad was on the other side, and the spark faded. He brushed away his tears, wiped his hands off, and stepped back into the locker room.

\----

"Hey, you good?"

Grant stared at Terry Jr., and everything that had very much been not okay so far nearly flooded right out of him.

 _I'm not okay. I killed a creature. I killed a guy. I only feel alive and real and awake when I'm hurting something or killing something or I feel pain or have feelings for someone._

_We're facing off with the possibility of death daily, my dad might die, all the dads might die, and that scares me._

_I might die, and I'm not sure that would be entirely unwelcome at this point._

"Hey kids, everything okay?" 

_I'm not okay._

Grant felt the desperate, wild panic thrumming through his veins fade, and the spark flicker. 

He glanced up at his father, his expression smooth, neutral, just expressive enough that his dad wouldn't ask if he was alright. 

_I'm not okay._

"Yup, everything's fine, dad. Thanks. What's up?" 

"Just wanted to say goodbye, buddy. We're heading back out now to help Henry with his kids and the anchor." 

_I'm not okay._

The spark burst and went out, like a candle extinguished by a harsh puff of cold icy breath. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids need food.  
> Terry Jr. and Grant see their chance, and take it.

_Everything blurred together._

_The car crash._

_Being stolen away._

_Being sold into slavery._

It'd been weeks, but it felt both longer and shorter than that.

What didn't blur, or fade, or ease, was the time with the Purple Robes.

He knew who they were, what they embodied, what they were supposed to mean.

It didn't mean he would acknowledge them as who they were.

But still, the time spent there-

If he could forget one thing-

Well, there were too many things to pick that he would love to forget about entirely.

_Bursting out of the Chimera and being covered in its remnants._

_Throwing the axe and watching the bounty hunter's head get sliced off, and enjoying it._

_His dad being more openly affectionate with Paedyn than he'd ever seen him act._

_The Purple Robes and how dismissive they were to the kids._

And here they all were, again. 

Caught, again. 

Held captive, again. 

Waiting to be rescued. Again.

The Purple Robes were being more careful this time. 

Unlike before, Grant and the other kids weren't in a tower with an open window or balcony. They weren't in an open room where someone could easily rush in, gather them up, and rush out. And of course, no convenient magical orb to spirit them away to safety.

No, they were hidden away in the darkest depths of a newfound tower. 

Or, maybe it was the old one.

_Who knows?_

But the room they were in barely constituted a room, and was more like a dungeon.

It was drab, abysmal, it was made up more of rot and slime than actual building.

Being down in the darkness, down flights of stairs, and behind multiple locked doors that sparked and shimmered with seals of magic, it didn't leave the kids much time where they weren't by themselves.

If anything, they were left to their own devices more now than before.

Which meant less food than before.

Which meant-

"I'm starving."

"I'm ravenous."

"I'm never going to be able to eat enough to fuel this rage inside me."

"I will never eat you, my brother. I swear it."

"And I will not eat you. I swear it."

He glanced over at Lark and Sparrow, who were both sprawled across each other as they lamented their predicament. In any other situation, it might have been funny, overly dramatic.

But, their normal chaotic amounts of energy were lost in favor of just...preserving what little they had remaining. If Grant had felt anything, he might have said it was sad. He figured he should feel sad about their low energy, about the fact that they were laying down to conserve it, rather than running wild like he'd seen them do.

But there wasn't anything there. He'd argue he wasn't there, but Terry Jr. kept glancing over at him, so that had to mean something for his existence.

_Nothing._

_There's nothing._

_There's nothing there._

_There's nothing here._

_So I'm not there._

_I'm not here._

Grant felt empty, not in the sense that he hadn't eaten in far too long, which was true. 

He felt like a void. The longer silence went on, and eventually, it did, like always, each day, into a painful silence that weighed down on all of them, the more he slipped, and he wasn't sure how far he could slip before he wouldn't ever climb out again.

_I'm just a void._

_Maybe I should disappear like a void._

His thoughts were jarred when a hand touched against his shoulder. 

He glanced up to find Terry Jr. standing over him, expression neutral, save for the slightest concern that was tossed first towards Lark and Sparrow, then towards Nick, who was off in the far corner of the room, staring at the wall, arms wrapped around his stomach, and finally, to him.

"Hey." The weak attempt at a greeting nearly broke apart in his mouth. 

Terry Jr.'s frown deepened.

"We need food."

Grant swallowed carefully, nodded, ignored the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of eating anything at this point. He felt okay when he wasn't thinking about it, but he also couldn't remember when they ate last.

"I mean, maybe eventually they'll-"

"It's been two days."

A swear word escaped Grant, far more harsh than he meant it, and felt Terry Jr.'s hand flinch away from his shoulder. He shook his head and stood up.

"You okay?"

Grant shrugged a shoulder, tried to manage a smile that felt more like a grotesque grimace about to make his skin melt right off.

"Sure."

Terry Jr. stared at him for a long moment, only breaking focus when another soft groan echoed out into the room, this time from Nick. Terry Jr. watched him, then moved to his side, crouched down next to him. Feeling more outside himself than he had so far, he followed, still feeling nothing.

Am I still here?

"We'll be back with some food, okay?"

It took a moment for Grant to realize, and it was only after Terry Jr. stood up, but tears were dragging down Nick's cheeks, his eyes puffy and red. 

_He's been crying for a while._

His chest ached, his heart clenched, but just as quickly as he noticed it, the pain and discomfort was gone, and he was left feeling...distant.

"We do not care about food, we only wish to eat the blood and flesh of our enemies!"

"But if you happen to only find normal food, it will suffice."

Lark and Sparrow's voices were soft, weaker, with less resolve than normal, and some part of Grant, deep down, wanted to help them. It was smothered by an endless blanket of numbness, but it was there, a brief spark deep down in his chest, and it was enough to spur him into action.

He gathered up his and Terry Jr's blankets from their beds, or what could barely pass as beds, and placed them over the twins. Terry Jr. readjusted them, and looked to Grant, who nodded.

"Okay, let's go."

Terry Jr. slipped back towards the darker corner of the room, where the already dim candlelight made no dent in the black darkness that now threatened to swallow them. 

Grant's hands clenched, the oxygen in his lungs threatened to suffocate him, his nails bit into skin,-

A spark flickered somewhere in his chest. If he hadn't been paying attention, he would have missed it.

_I'm here._

Terry Jr. paced a bit in front of the doorway, and Grant waited, glancing at the door, anxiety threatening to burst through the numb ache in his chest.

_What if we leave, and they walk in?_

The numb feeling faded, slipped from the center of his chest where he figured his heart should have been, further down, into a deeper sort of darkness. Anxiety faded into nothing, and his shoulders relaxed.

_I'm not here._

"Let's go."

There was a doorway, where Terry Jr. had been drawing sigils on the wall, and Grant followed, watching as the doorway closed up behind them. Questions burned in his throat, but Terry Jr. shook his head, and pointed forward.

_On, we go._

Navigating pitch black tunnels was more difficult than he expected, but eventually, candlelight started to twinkle off of the walls, still dim, still dark, still doing little to help them see. But it was something, and Grant could now see TJ in front of him, dark brown wavy hair caught up in a ponytail.

_TJ? Why TJ?_

He shook his head, breathing out carefully as they walked, stumbling a bit when the other boy stopped short ahead of him. 

More questions formed, threatened to burst out of him, but Grant found a hand pressed over his mouth, Terry Jr. staring at him intently, shaking his head, golden brown eyes wide.

All too familiar voices from just around the corner sent chills down his spine, dragged bile right back up into his throat again. 

Something grabbed his hand, and he glanced down to find Terry Jr.'s hand clutching his, while his other hand carefully moved away from his mouth.

"Such a waste of time."

"They always make us wait so long."

"I'm beginning to think this was all a waste of time. Let's just kill them."

"We need the Dads, if they can call themselves that, or we would."

A gasp escaped him, and Terry Jr. shot him a glare, more full of desperation than anger. 

Grant gave him an incredulous look, carefully freeing his hand from the other's grip, which was threatening to snap fingers in half.

'Ow?' He mouthed the word, managing a slight smile despite the way his heart pounded.

Terry Jr. winced in apology and shrugged, offering a small hesitant smile.

'Sorry?' 

It was a long few moments.

"Why do we need them? They're useless."

Grant sighed in relief as the silence was filled again.

_Thank god..._

Terry Jr. clung to his hand. 

He wasn't sure what Terry Jr. might have done instead if he couldn't reach out. But from the way Terry Jr. was biting the inside of his lip, hard, it would have given away their hiding place. 

Not that he hadn't done that already himself, but for now, they were okay. They hadn't been heard-

"We need them to prove a point."

Terry Jr.'s muscles were tense, fingers shaking in Grant's hand, his eyes full of fear, rage, unease. The slightest spark hidden away in his chest flared up for a second as his joints ached.

His hand would heal eventually. Being caught now would be devastating.

"What point is that?"

Silence followed the question, uncomfortable. But nothing happened, and Grant shifted a bit where he stood.

Were the hallways always this dark?

A Purple Robe loomed over them, eyes harsh and steely from within the hood. His voice, like broken glass in a blender, hissed out at them. Grant pulled Terry Jr. behind him, stared up at the Purple Robe.

"That their attempts at fatherhood are futile, just like their children's attempts at escape. So they should give up now."

Grant found his voice, hidden away somewhere deep inside himself that he'd been smothering it, not trusting what might come out.

_Not real._

_Not here._

_Not real._

_Not here._

"Only one of two groups is going to win this fight, and it's not going to be you, creeps."

Sparks danced across the walls, across floors, across skin. Grant's body connected with the floor, the stone bashed into his shoulder, his side, his elbow, his knee.

He felt Terry Jr. drop next to him with a snarled 'fuck you' at the Purple Robe.

Sparks danced across them, and finally, sharp trailing pain registered in a flood to his senses.

_I'm here._

_I'm real._

_I'm here._

_I'm real._

_This is real._

_This is here._

Darkness washed over them, screams echoed around the corridor, and Grant lost himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The darkness drags Grant deeper down, and he wonders if it's worth it to try to fight it anymore.

In the darkness, he felt his body impact something. Or at least, that's what it felt like, in a mental sense. 

It wasn't a long fall from where he had been to where he landed, and it wasn't like it truly hurt, not in the way the electric sparks hurt him before.

This was different. But it was also familiar. It was both the sharp bite of caffeine and the familiar taste of soda, except of course, it was the sharp bite of failure and the familiar taste of loss lodging itself deep in his throat, on his tongue, stuck there for all time.

There wasn't a physical impact. Physically hitting the ground might have jostled his shoulder, his side, his arm, threatened or even succeeded in jolting sharp pain through his body.

It hurt, deep down, somewhere deeper than even his heart reached, further done in a way that made him think the chasm where his heart should have been was instead a bottomless pit, yawning open and dragging whatever prey it could in at any moment. 

The pain, it was familiar, dragging at muddled senses, until he sobbed out, mind whirling, thoughts spiraling, breath catching hard in his lungs, his throat, his mouth.

It was a heart shattering like glass, tears soaking into fabric, broken sobs smothered by a pillow. No, this wasn't physical pain. Physical pain meant he was alive, meant he was present, meant he was still here.

This was mental, and that meant he was still nothing, that he truly probably had always been nothing.

It was hope crashing to the floor and breaking apart, the pieces too fine, too small, too infinite to ever be fully put back together again.

Somewhere in between darkness and light, hands caught at his shoulders, shaking him, a voice too garbled and disjointed for him to understand muddling out words.

He assumed the words were at him, but, who knew. If he wasn't really there, then, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He didn't matter.

A new space resolved itself around him, and darkness faded, until he was staring at the familiar surroundings of the dungeon, the other four boys staring at him. He looked over their faces, heard a collective soft sigh escape them all.

It took a moment for it to register.

. _They were worried._

Pain ached through him, and he glanced down at his body, where lingering burns were scattered across his skin, jagged, broken welts, dark red, red, pink-

_Blood. Gore. Carnage. The orb-_

His fingers tunneled into his hair, roughly, stubbornly, a shaky hiss falling out of him. Fingers caught at his hands, tugged them out of his hair. He felt some strands get tugged away in the struggle, and looked up at Terry Jr.

"You're here. _You're here, okay?_ You're here with _us_."

Grant stared at Terry Jr., who looked right back at him, ever the stubborn pessimist who was actually a realist.

"I'm here?"

His voice sounded broken, distant, doubtful. He wasn't sure if he was there or not. Who knew at this point? Magic had proven itself to be quite the assailant to them. 

_What if they had died in that car crash, and this was all some screwed up dream?_

_What if nothing they did mattered here?_

"You're here, Grant."

He stared at Terry Jr., at Nick, at Lark, at Sparrow, then let out a soft breath.

"Promise?"

Grant saw the smile that earned him, saw the way Terry Jr.'s shoulders relaxed just a fraction, before he held up his pinky.

"Promise."

The moment was broken as the events from before washed over him, and as some sort of weight seemed to settle him back down to the ground, tethering him to the world once more, he looked at the others, a weight settling over them again that threatened to smother them to death.

"What's happening now?"

Terry Jr. grimaced, and glanced over at the door, which was locked just as it had been before. What had changed was now, every wall was covered in wards, layers of them. He glanced at Terry Jr. again, his words lost in his throat when he saw the other's wrists.

_He's in chains._

Grant looked at the other boy, who shrugged and raised his arms in a 'what can you do' kind of gesture.

"What the _fuck_ are those?"

Terry Jr. looked away, and finally, after far too many moments of silence, Nick was the one who spoke up, far more quiet than normal, his voice raspy, soft, shattered.

"Magic."

Grant looked at Nick, whose frown only deepened as he sat back on the ground, shoulders slumping. He saw Lark and Sparrow hug each other out of the corner of his eye, and swallowed hard. 

"What kind of magic?"

"The bullshit kind."

The fact that Terry Jr. of all people was trying to make a joke out of the situation only cemented Grant's stubbornness to find out what was going on, even if he caught the way Terry Jr. was shooting glares at Nick. 

Probably a method to try to get him to shut up. Which wasn't working, much to Grant's relief. Nick caught the looks, stared down Terry Jr., then let the words fall out into the air, like if he didn't talk fast enough, Terry Jr. might shut him up. Which was entirely possible.

"If Terry Jr. leaves this room, he'll die."

Grant stared at them all, at Nick, at Lark and Sparrow, and finally, at Terry Jr. He stood up from where he was, a soft huff falling out of him, fingers curling and uncurling in fists.

"Those fucking bastards."

He looked at Terry Jr., who had retreated to the wall to sit down next to it, and pointedly avoided his gaze.

"We need to do something."

"What can we do?"

Grant found the other boy looking at him, expression cold, closed off, stern. 

_Avoidant._

He had acted the exact same way when they had first been caught. This time was different though, because they all had gotten a taste of freedom. Which made getting captured out from under their dads' noses all the worse.

"Well, that's what plans are for, aren't they?"

"You sound like your dad?"

Grant actually smiled a bit at that, and shrugged.

"So we all three can leave the room-"

Nick looked perplexed, the twins looked...thoughtful, and well, Terry Jr. just looked pissed. Nick gestured at him with a thumb, eyes wide, brows furrowed, expression both exhausted and angry, his hope a shaky thing in the midst of everything. 

I know how that feels.

"But we can't, because he has the magic-"

Nick's words cut into him, dug in like a knife, stayed lodged somewhere in his chest, but something else cut deeper.

_Rage._

"But _we_ could, right?"

Grant met Terry Jr.'s gaze, and after he reluctantly mulled that over, Grant's question earned a nod.

"Alright. We need to figure out a way to get out of the room."

"For what?"

"They're bound to have magical artifacts around here? Maybe one can break the chains? We need to find one, steal it, bring it back-what?"

Grant's plan faded into nothing when he caught the attentive look Lark gave Sparrow, and sensing either brilliance or danger, Grant switched topics.

"What? What's going on?"

The two boys continued to stare at each other, telepathically or otherwise, speaking where no others could speak, and then finally looked up at him.

"We heard them talking."

"There's a staff."

Grant's eyebrows furrowed, and he folded his arms across his chest for a second, only to shove hands in his pockets at the last second when he realized he looked far too much like his dad to do that and get away with it.

"What kind of staff?"

"The kind that can break chains."

That's nonspecific.

Lark and Sparrow exchanged a look, and Grant, who wasn't a fucking idiot, knew what that look was, even with the lingering mischief and wild chaos smothered by lack of food and water.

_Trouble._

"What _kind_ of staff?"

The twins grinned, and Grant felt the slightest spark of fear scamper down his spine.

"The kind that can break us out of this garbage pile, and get us back to our dads."

Terry Jr. shot Grant a look, and Grant met his eyes, trying to see if perhaps, they all could telepathically communicate. 

It was a long moment of silence, of staring, of Grant staring at Terry Jr., and Terry Jr. staring right back at him. It seemed obvious, Terry Jr. wanted out of those chains, and...well, if a staff could get them back to the dads-

Grant watched the way Terry Jr.'s eyebrows furrowed, _stared_ for a long moment, before turning back to the twins and Nick.

He clapped his hands together in a way that _really_ reminded him of his dad, and _really_ made him want to crawl under a rock. 

A cough fell out of him, more embarrassment than anything else, ignoring the slight smirk he got from Nick.

He shook his head, and stared the two boys down, who were now grinning ear to ear like imps right out of a storybook.

_Thank god these imps are on our side._

With some effort, he moved to sit on the floor, and stared right at them.

"Alright, Lord of Chaos, let's hear it."

From the exasperated sigh that fell out of Terry Jr. as the twins whooped softly in celebration, Grant had not picked up on anything in their mental conversation.

Whoops. 

\---


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys find out just how messy escape plans can be, and work apart to escape together.

_Well, for what it was worth, it wasn't a bad idea._

_No, it was a terrible idea._

_But it was an idea, it was a plan, which wasn't something they had before._

The plan they had all managed to come up with was simple enough. 

_Well that was bullshit, it wasn't simple, and everything was going to go wrong._

_But hurray for false optimism._

Nick somehow managed to get the singing genes from his father _and_ his mother, so he would scream, loudly, and hopefully, one of three Purple Robes would come to see what the commotion was about.

Lark and Sparrow were easily the second loudest, as offended as they were about that news. But they _were_ the most stealthy of the five of them. So once the door was open and the barriers were down, Lark and Sparrow would sneak out behind the Purple Robe, and try to find the staff to break Terry Jr.'s chains.

Nick would ask for some food and water from the PR, and if all went well, could talk his way into walking up the stairs with the PR. Ideally, he'd be distracting all three PR's, keeping them busy, so that Lark and Sparrow could get back safe and sound to the dungeon.

Which left Terry Jr., and Grant.

Grant was going to stay curled up in the corner, hidden by the darkness, and ideally, if all went well, could get the key to the door from Terry Jr., who would have swiped them from the PR when the PR comes over inevitably to check on him and the magic chains.

If nothing else, Grant needed to go upstairs as well, find a different magical object, or even some books, so that when the kids escaped, they could get back to their dads, safe and sound, through Terry Jr.'s magic.

Terry Jr., once free, would do his best to use his magic, sneak back through the hidden hallways, and get the upper hand on the PR's, whatever that meant. Terry Jr. had been surprisingly vague about that bit of information, and argued with Grant until they ran around in circles far too long talking about it.

It was a plan. Not a great plan, not even a good plan, and everything would probably go wrong. But it was something.

It was definitely _something_.

They had about an hour before they would really have to do anything, so they sat there, quiet taking over them. 

"Grant, how are your arms?"

Grant glanced down at his skin, which still sported welts, but the swelling was ever so slowly easing finally, and he nodded, showing one arm to Nick.

"I'll live."

Nick offered a shaky smile, glancing at the door, rocking a bit on his knees. The sharp, carefree bravado he always showed around his father had fallen away before when they had first been caught, and it was worse now, left Nick withdrawn, distant, barely saying anything to the both of them. 

The sooner they got out, the better.

_If we don't get out now, I'm not sure there will be anything for the dads to find later._

_Hunger didn't help their predicament, but stress didn't either, and the castle all but seemed to be made of pure anxiety, trauma, and rage._

Nick's fingers twisted, fidgeted as he watched the door, and Grant moved over to him, set a hand on his shoulder.

"It'll be okay, we'll be right here with you."

Grant earned a slight smile in reply. After making sure Nick was as okay as he could be, he glanced over at Lark and Sparrow, who were trying to, quite literally, climb the dungeon walls.

"Lark, Sparrow!"

_I sound like my dad._

They yelped as they toppled back down to the ground, which thankfully wasn't too far from them. The fall didn't jar them much, and they offered decent glares at Grant, who crossed his arms. And then shoved them right back into his pockets.

"You've got to focus, okay? Better yet, run around the room a bit, get some energy out."

They looked at each other, then looked at him, expressions...nearly empty of any and all emotion, which was disconcerting because usually there was at least something there.

"You sound like your dad."

Grant grimaced a bit at that, turned away.

"Just be careful, you two."

"We make no such promises."

Grant sighed, and glanced over at Terry Jr., who met his gaze almost immediately, attentive, curious, but also just as exhausted as he was. He sat down next to him, and was about to doze off when he felt his shoulder nudged.

Terry Jr. was watching the twins, but glanced over at him, offering a smile that seemed far more optimistic than it should have.

"Ready for this?"

He shook his head at the question, then looked at Terry Jr., a frown settling deeper on his face as he mulled over how he felt.

How did he feel?

A trip to a soccer tournament turned into this, and all he could think was...

Can it just end? Can this just end? Can this entire garbage experience just end, for better or worse?

I'm so tired, and sleep isn't going to help that.

TJ's ability to stay calm had always impressed him, and the fact that he kept somewhat level-headed as well? In the midst of everything? That was wild to him. 

But then again, Grant was smothering his own memories, his own feelings. Who's to say the others weren't also?

He focused on TJ's question, because at least answering that meant...well, he assumed it meant something. No spark flared up in his chest, but maybe it would help TJ stay afloat, alert, stay okay with everyone leaving. If everything went without a hitch.

"Not at all. You?"

Terry Jr. blinked in shock at the honesty, then shrugged, offering a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Nope."

Silence swept over them, broken up only by Grant trying to bribe Lark and Sparrow into not climbing the walls, and them reluctantly agreeing.

"You, uh-"

Grant looked at Terry Jr., who wasn't looking at him, and was instead watching Nick, who was doing some sort of odd vocal exercise. An oddly inspiring vocal exercise.

"You never mentioned how it went with Yeet."

A spark flickered in his chest, followed by the chill of ice as it wrapped around his heart. He shrugged and managed a soft laugh.

"Uh, nothing went. Yeah."

That actually got Terry Jr. to look at him, eyes wide, confused, concerned.

"Nothing?"

Grant shook his head, shrugged, sighed when he felt the flicker fade from his chest, and numbness fall over him in a familiar wave, like a blanket falling over him and wrapping him up even if he was far too warm to want it there.

"Nothing."

He glanced away when Terry Jr. stared him down, only to find himself looking at the spot where the twins had been sitting quietly, now void of either boy. 

He was up and circling the room in a moment, the question about Yeet forgotten, a string of swear words escaping him as he looked around the dungeon.

"Where did they go?"

A spark wavered, deep within his chest.

_Fear._

_Anger._

_Frustration._

_I'm just so goddamn tired._

"Hey, Grant, it's alright-"

He whipped around, stared at Nick, eyes wide, anger boiling up faster under his skin than the fear could, his words escaping in a low hiss.

"It's not alright? They're gone? We need to all get out of here together and they're _gone._ What do we do?"

The room felt smothering, like it was slowly shifting closer, closer, closer, threatening to box him in, to crush him, to break him into pieces-

"We keep going with the plan."

Grant looked over at Terry Jr., who stared back, a stubbornly calm look on his face that he usually only reserved for when he was arguing with Ron.

"...But what about-"

"They will find us."

He shook his head, ran hands through his hair, agitation bursting in his chest, before a hand settled on his shoulder.

"Trust in them, okay?"

That thought terrified him, trusting the two entities otherwise known as Lark and Sparrow with something so basic as their own personal safety, and the indirect well-being of the other kids, but after a moment, he sighed, and let his hands fall to his sides.

"Should we start the plan now then?"

Nick looked at him for guidance, which was a horrifying thought. After a moment, Grant nodded, and swung an arm to punch the magic wards.

_Better late than never._

It didn't take long for a PR to show up, mumbled swear words and frantic chants escaping from the other side of the door to get to the frantic pounding of Grant's fists, the screams from Nick, and the rest of the inevitable, collectively troublesome group of children that lay on the other side.

Grant retreated when he heard the last chant all but snarled out, moved to the corner of the room and plopped down, arms wrapped around his knees, head buried in them.

The door swung open, and slammed right into the wall, and the room didn't quite shake, but the force of the door slamming threatened to crumble the room around them like dust.

Nick's scream faltered and faded as he found himself face to face with one of the Purple Robes. There was a long moment of silence before the PR spoke, hissing out.

" _What the fuck is the problem, child? We're busy-_ "

"We need food-"

"You just ate, stop being demanding-"

"We ate _two days ago_ , you fucking idiot. We need to eat more than th-"

Nick's bravery flared up for a second, but it didn't last long. 

A sharp smack of palm against face echoed through the dungeon room, and Grant peeked up carefully, residual flinches moving through him as he saw Nick on the ground, crumpled from the force of the hit, even if the PR looked thoughtful, hand still raised.

"Of course. You all are hungry. I'll bring you food now, if Nick, you help us with something we've been dealing with."

Grant watched the scene curiously, holding his breath, as Nick stayed where he was, then stood up. He didn't rub at his cheek, even if sparks still flaked down from his face due to the force the PR had used against him.

"if it means we get food, I'll help."

From where he was sitting, he could barely see a blur of shadows through the doorway, behind the Purple Robe, two small shadows becoming one and fading right back into nothing as they went up the stairs. 

Nick headed for the door, and the PR held up a hand, eyeing Terry Jr. suspiciously.

"Hold on-"

He walked over, grasped at the chains, and tugged hard. Terry Jr. winced and crumpled to the ground, and Grant wasn't entirely confident it was just good acting. 

The PR laughed softly, leaned in close to whisper something to him, which made Terry Jr. flinch and lunge for him. That earned Terry Jr. a smack to the face as the PR loomed over him, and then, together, Nick and the PR left the room, and the doors, wards back in place, slammed shut behind them.

Grant moved over to Terry Jr., helping him to his feet.

"What did he say to you?"

"Don't fucking worry about it, Grant, just _go._ "

Grant was about to protest when Terry Jr. shoved him far too weakly to truly make a difference. But the meaning was there, and so was a weight in his hands.

He looked down. The key to the room was there in his palms, along with a couple of large emeralds which were just a bit too soft to the touch.

He glanced at Terry Jr., who nodded, and pointed towards the door. Grant felt his hands shaking, a spark flaring up in his chest as he pushed the key into the door, and heard the wards fade to nothing. The door swung open and Grant stepped outside, barely catching the door and looking back at Terry Jr.

_Real. Real. Alive. Real._

Terry Jr. nodded once, not losing eye contact, and Grant could now see the harsh red burn lingering on Terry Jr.'s face, leftover from the PR's magic. 

Even as he watched, he swore it shimmered, and Terry Jr. winced, curling up against the wall before waving him off.

"Fuck 'em up, Wilson."

_The spark deep within his chest flared into a raging fire._


	5. Chapter 5

The door slammed shut between them, and he was alone. He stared at the door, and watched in horror as the wards once again slowly circled around against dark, aged wood, blinking back into existence.

_Well, shit._

The harsh click of the lock forbade him from going back, and after a moment, he sucked in a breath, steadied his balance, and headed up the stairs.

The spark flickered and faded, going out in an instant the moment he realized he was truly alone, as if he had always been alone.

_Was I ever here?_

With it came the numb ache of nothing, of existing, but nothing else. Every breath felt new, every tap of hand against stone felt unfamiliar, the sleeves of his jacket catching him off guard at least five times as he ascended the staircase.

_Was I ever real?_

Listening carefully, stepping lightly, it was all a game. A fucked up, terrifying, 'succeed or die' game. But here he was, stepping around cracks in the stairs, avoiding standing in the light too long, just in case.

It took far too long for him to break past the darkness finally and into candle-lit hallways.  
With his back pressed against the wall, trying to ground both his emotions and his heartbeat, he breathed, and listened.

Voices were further off down the hallway, bouncing off walls until he wasnt sure if they were coming from the right or left.

_Would it really hurt if they hit me again?_

The wait was excruciating as he listened and tried to get his bearings on his surroundings.

He stepped lightly, trying to focus on each step being quiet, on each breath being silent, as he crossed the room, ducked into another hallway, the key and emeralds now shoved down into his pocket, safe.

The voices grew louder, and Grant held his breath as they walked past, one of the PR's voices echoing out, followed by Nick's voice.

"Now we're going to prepare the meat for the feast. You can handle that, right?"

"Yeah."

The sharp sound of hand thudding against head echoed in his mind, a delayed flinch moving through him, but he stayed hidden.

"What was that?"

"...Yes, *sir*."

_I need to hurry._

Grant moved along stone hallways, ever careful, ever quiet, barely evading being caught a few times, before he finally found the room the twins had mentioned before.

_A staff with a gold orb, and red surrounding it._

_Wait, what's surrounding it? Red what?_

_Just red._

The room was full of weapons, magic, ranged, and melee. Off to the right was a number of cases full of armor, robes, and even one full of potions.

_I should have brought a bag or something._

He stepped in, hesitating more because of the open archway lacking a door than being truly fearful. Again, he felt nothing, and whether that was really a bad thing or not in the grand scheme of things, right now, he preferred it to fear.

He went to the axes first, staring them down. They all glowed different colors, ranging from red, all the way to white. He caught up the blue, felt magic spark against his palm, felt his body calm from adrenaline. More calm than he had been, eerily so.

Rage still lingered in his chest, staying rather stubbornly where the strange, unfamiliar calm was warring with it, and after a moment he gave up, setting the axe back down on its stand.

Despite everything, despite the color purple probably being ruined for him forever, he picked up the axe.

_Power flooded him._

He could feel the strength he had always wished for and never had seep deep into his bones, even further than that, could feel the sudden resolve of a thousand warriors crash into his chest and strengthen his resolve, a war cry nearly tearing itself out of his lungs.

With that strength came...well, the overwhelming need to fight. He set the axe down, reluctantly as he felt the power, the strength, the confidence fade, leaving him as he was, just as he had been. Which wasn't much at all.

He went over to the daggers, stared at them all, also glowing different colors. Orange, red, blue, pink, purple. 

A pair of daggers caught his eye, and he moved to pick them up, one red and one blue. It took him a few seconds, but then he picked up the pair of da. It was less pronounced than the axe had been, but he felt it, a firm resolve, a fiery companionship, an absolute dedication deep down, muffled.

He set those daggers aside, and went over to the large table holding a wide variety of...instruments. Guitars, harps, flutes, even horns, all laying there. All held the same sort of faint glimmer and glow, catching his attention, but nothing truly screamed out at him.

Until he saw the lyre laying across the end of the table, glowing blue, purple, then silver, and realized it was perfect. He set that aside, and moved over to the staffs.

He knew Terry Jr. was going to get a staff from the twins, but...it didn't hurt to have a backup just in case right? He wasn't sure how he'd carry all this, but he'd figure something out.

Each staff glowed, each holding a different crystal, each glowing a different color. One was missing, an empty space where it had sat. Lark and Sparrow had already been here, that was a good sign. 

He stared at the wall full of staffs, then caught up the one with a sapphire, glowing silver and blue. It was icy to the touch, and he set it down quickly, sucking in a sharp breath. In that brief moment of holding it though, he felt a mixture of loss and gain. As distressing as it was to feel so off after just holding the magical object, he felt...solidarity. Whatever this staff held, it held loss and reassurance all at once, and that seemed to make the most sense to give to TJ.

Now, to wait.

\----

Nick didn't know what he was getting into when he begged to be let out, to walk around, to 'help' prepare the meal, his head aching from the three smacks he had earned so far for not responding correctly, not responding at all, or not responding quickly enough.

What he would give for anything to take that pain away.

He followed the PR down the hallways, winding around furniture and clutter that didn't seem to have a purpose other than give the impression of a home. A creepy, gothic, broken home the PR's seemed all too happy about having.

The skeletal guards watched with glowing eyes as they walked, and Nick had to fight to not look at them, fingers stuffed in the pockets of his pants, his breath catching in his lungs.

*Need a smoke, need a smoke, need a-*

"You know how to cut meat, don't you?"

He glanced up, found a knife being offered to him, and took it, trying to avoid being hit again. 

"It's over on the table. Get working."

Nick hesitated, eyeing the knife more than the table, staring at it for a long moment, unease creeping along him like shadows that were threatening to suffocate him.

"Get to it, boy."

He lifted his head, a strangled sob falling out of him when he saw just what was on the table. He squeezed his eyes shut against the scene in front of him, breath catching in his lungs like broken glass, rushing out of him and back in, faster and faster until his vision blurred and faded.

"Shut up shut up _shut up shut up-_ "

"I said get to it boy-"

Nick screamed, the sharp noise echoing around the kitchen, threading through stone and mortar, and the castle shook around him like a leaf in the storm. His eyes burned with tears, burned with more than that. He turned around to face the PR, knife caught tight in his hand.

" _And I said shut up_."

\----

Lark and Sparrow were a team, had always been a team, and were inseparable. The Purple Robes had absolutely figured out that if they tried to separate the twins, they'd deal with hell beyond their wildest imaginations trying to contain them. 

So the twins were kept together.

A blessing and a curse. 

Everyone always addressed them as one, and that was okay, but sometimes, Sparrow wished they'd be seen for being more than a pair. They were different, had always been different. They had tried to show just how different they were, had tried to switch names to see if their parents could tell the difference.

They couldn't, and that cut deeper than any knife.

There had been a point when they had discussed identifying features, throwing ideas back and forth. Lark losing an arm so he'd be more identifiable, Sparrow getting an awesome cut across his face to show he was just as badass as his brother. 

Sparrow now had the want to turn into a wolf, so that could have been defining, but even now, their father still called them 'Lark and Sparrow', and Sparrow was pretty sure their father didn't know who head been under the rubble and who wasn't when the pyramid appeared, nearly crushing all of them.

"Hey, want another dagger?"

He looked up to find Lark staring more at the dagger than at him, and shrugged.

"You take it."

Lark grinned at him, shooting finger guns at him before sliding the knife, holster and all, around his waist, covering it with his shirt.

"Any food around here?"

Sparrow pulled out a roll without thinking, offering it to Lark, who took it and ate it quickly, ravenous. His stomach growled in protest, but he hid it by stepping against the stones.

"...What was that?"

"Saw a bug. I won."

Lark's grin widened, and he nodded.

"Good job."

Getting the staff was a team effort, and there was plenty along the way for them to look at. Which landed them with quite a lot of gold, jewels, and weapons hidden away on their persons as they finally snuck back down to the dungeon.

Only to find the dungeon door ajar, and a Purple Robe in the dungeon, staring down Terry Jr., who was glaring right back.

\----

Another hit moved through Terry Jr., and he swore he tasted copper this time as he bit his cheek, threw another pointed glare up at the PR currently towering over him.

"Ow."

The PR sighed, and Terry Jr. managed to lift his arms enough to flip the man off, who sighed.

"I really don't think you understand just how disappointed your father would be in you-"

Terry Jr. actually stood up, stepping forward, staring down the PR, fingers curling into tight fists, anger threatening to burst out of him in waves if he didn't somehow keep in control.

"You didn't even know him-"

"Oh, didn't I? Don't I?"

The silence that followed found itself broken by a raspy, cruel chuckle. Terry Jr.'s fingers curled again, and he could understand how Grant might lose his shit with one of these idiots. He was surprised it hadn't happened sooner, honestly.

"I imagine he would be so disappointed-"

Taunts dragged him back to reality, and he stared at the hood that seemed more empty than anything else, no eyes staring back out at him. He wanted to reach out, yank it down, prove that what was making him tense with anxiety and fear was nothing more than a lie-

"Shut up-"

"So at a loss-"

"Fuck off-"

"Where oh where did he go wrong-"

Terry Jr.'s hands sparked, only for him to yelp and crumple in a heap as the cuffs sparked in retaliation, jolting him into submission. He glared up at the Purple Robe, who crouched down over him, tilting his head.

"I imagine he wouldn't want you as his son anymore, that's how disappointed he'd be in you."

He couldn't use magic to light the PR on fire. Not with the cuffs on.

There was nothing holding back his feet.

The PR stumbled back and fell, clutching at their leg, swearing as purple sparks and magic swirled up around him. He couldn't see it, but he felt the glare the PR gave him, could feel the harsh crackle of electricity thrum up and surround him.

"You'll regret that, you little shit-"

"Not as much as you'll regret everything!"

Terry Jr. glanced up in shock at the new voice, or rather, the familiar voice, and found Lark and Sparrow staring right back at him from the doorway, grins on their faces, both holding the staff with red surrounding it.

*Interesting. It really is just red*.

Or at least, they had been holding it, just before it was thrown into the air, and clattered down between Terry Jr.'s and the PR's feet. He lunged for it, found the PR catching up the staff too, a dangerous tug of war with a very metal object resulting as electricity crackled around them.

Sparks burned at him, soft growls of anger falling from him as he tried to yank the staff away further using his feet, the PR's grip making it hard to find any leverage. 

\----

Lark drew out two daggers, metal both warm and cold in his hands. With a screech of "Power!", he lunged for the PR, daggers finding themselves shoved deep into the man's stomach and leg.

"Stupid brat!"

"Not just me!"

Lark glanced over and found his twin throwing one of the daggers, watched it dig deep into the PR's shoulder. He threw his arms around the PR's neck, clung as he tried to use the dagger to stab him once more. 

He felt the impact as the PR nearly lost his balance from how Sparrow had caught his feet, screeched into the PR's ear as the dagger sliced something open. He hoped it was skin.

"Stab him harder!"

"I'm trying!"

"Die die die!"

Each stab was accompanied with a word, and the twins wrapped arms around him and jabbed him with daggers, some hitting their mark, others barely glancing through the robe he wore. They felt it when the PR stumbled, and heard it when the staff slipped and clattered. 

\----

For once, the chaos that seemed to follow the twins like an ever-present cloud was a welcome thing, and Terry Jr. would have to make sure to thank them endlessly for at least a minute or so. 

Any longer, and they'd demand payment.

_Only if we get out though._

Terry Jr. managed to catch up the staff, standing up on shaky legs, electricity still aching through him. 

The PR struggling against being caught by two boys latched around his legs and torso, trying to keep him from doing anything worse. But it was enough of a distraction, enough to form a plan.

The cuffs clattered and clinked as the fight went on, and Terry Jr. felt his grip slipping. He let one hand slip from the staff, the staff flipped downward in a rush from the force, hitting hard against the chains with a loud crack of energy. Sparrow and Lark fell off of the PR and bolted to the side, out of harm's way, or rather, Sparrow dragged Lark out of the line of fire while Lark screeched threats and words at the PR.

The cuffs fell open and Terry Jr. shoved forward. The PR lost his grip on the staff, stumbled back. 

Foreign words escaped him that he knew only meant power and freedom.

A red starburst of magic sent the PR flying back into the wall, and crumpling down to the floor. Terry Jr. caught up the remnants of the cuffs, and led the way back up the stairs, with Lark still shouting insults, and Sparrow trying to drag him along.

A harsh scream echoed around them, and the three boys froze on the stairs as the door once again slammed shut behind them, wards in place.

_Nick._

\---

Grant heard the scream, could almost swear he heard a harsh thud of energy from far below, could hear the rush of energy and adrenaline that came before a fight. His blood lit like fire in his veins, his fingers curled tight around the axe in his hands.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

He glanced up from where he was sitting in the room, and found one of the PR's staring right back at him.

His hand still caught around the axe he claimed as his own, he threw it, the sharp blade digging deep into the PR's shoulder. The PR crumpled a bit, shock flooding him even as green started to seep from his hands, and Grant stood up, barrelling into the man to take him down to the ground.

The PR doesn't move, and a quick check under the hood revealed that the man was out cold, still breathing by some miracle. With a sigh of relief, Grant stood back up. But not before taking the bag from the ground that the PR had dropped.

Gathering up the weapons the best he could, he shoved them in the bag, relieved when he found it stretching to accommodate the different weapons, until it was all neatly packed away into whatever void was the inside of the bag.

Potions and armor found their way inside it too, just for safekeeping, assuming everything would go fine, and they would escape, and they'd be safe, long enough to even use the stuff they stole. 

Despite how much he had in there, the bag wasn't heavy. He slipped it onto his back, and bolted down the stairs.

The sound of another of Nick's screams speared through the castle, and he winced, agony flooding him, closely followed by fear.

_Well there definitely goes our cover._

\----

Nick fought against the grip of the PR's arms caught tight around him, soft snarls of rage escaping him as he tried and failed to escape the PR.

"They're trying to escape! They're trying to-"

He elbowed the PR in the ribs, laughing softly when the man wheezed in a guttural way. Which earned him another hit to his face, aching through his jaw.

"Stupid brat."

A hand caught around his mouth, his jaw, and he bit down hard, teeth sinking in deep. He tasted blood.

The PR yelped, and Nick was free again, knife still in hand. He whipped around and slammed the knife back into the man's chest, shoving him down hard until he impacted the ground, a broken sob that bordered on a scream escaping him.

"*Stay the fuck down.*"

Energy swirled around him, enveloped first him, then the man, and when he moved to stand back up, the PR didn't get back up, completely stuck on the ground, hypnotized by the harsh order.

Nick's fingers dug hard into his hair as the visions flooded him again, his eyes glancing to the table, to where-

A broken cry escaped him again, his heart threatening to snap in half as grief and loss flooded his soul. Tears burned down his cheeks again.

He didn't hear when the PR stood up again, but he did hear the low mocking chuckle, as ragged and pained as it was.

"How was it to see your sweet mother again?"

Nick whipped around, a scream that threatened to break his own eardrums bursting from his lungs, and the PR screamed in pain, crumpling to the floor, clutching at his head as he writhed under the harsh weight of Nick's voice, of Nick's grief. Chest heaving and heart so heavy it might fall right through the floor, he turned, and bolted out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

\----

Grant burst into the central hall, and sighed in relief at seeing the other four boys.

"Let's fucking _go_."

Terry Jr. gestured at the bag, staff still in hand, and Grant opened it, offered the staff to him.

Except it wasn't a staff. It was a soccer ball, just a bit smaller than a normal one.

And it was glowing green.

"Uh. That...was not what I grabbed for you."

He glanced up, and found Terry Jr. grinning right back at him, who took the soccer ball and shoved it under his arm.

"It's cool. I know how to use it."

Grant glanced over at the clatter of metal, watched as Lark and Sparrow, daggers still in hand, tucked them away into sheaths at their waists, and held out hands for even more weapons. He could see at least three other pairs of daggers on Lark, one more on Sparrow, and an assortment of weapons he couldn't quite place. 

Against his better judgment, he reached into the endless bag, and offered them the daggers.

Sparrow stared at the dagger currently glowing red in his hands, waved it through the air a bit, grinning when the slightest flame flickered away from the blade before the red faded away again.

Lark swished his dagger through the air, listening to it almost sing like a bird as it sliced through the air, the blue emanating from it almost seeming to drip like water when he held it still, the glow lighting up until it was brighter than even the candles in the room.

Grant looked around for Nick, who was crumpled against the wall, still sobbing. He moved over to him, hesitating, and crouched down to hold out the lyre to him. 

Nick, without looking at him, took it, mumbled something along the lines of gratitude, and hugged it to his chest.

"My sword glows with the ice of sto-awh! It went out."

Lark's outburst caught his attention again, Grant looked towards him, then shivered as adrenaline flooded him again.

_A fight. Danger. Blood._

Grant glanced up, and saw Lark's dagger fading from its glow to a normal silver blade. 

Sparrow's instead glowed bright red, lighting up his face, illuminating the boy's fear.

One of the PR's stepped into the room, anger emanating away from him, purple swirling up around him.

"Should have let you all rot more, you good for nothing, ungrateful brats-"

Maybe he had watched too many video games, or maybe he was so distant from himself he imagined it, but he swore time slowed as he glanced over at Terry Jr., who simply tossed the soccer ball up, and flipped around, and kicked it hard at the PR.

A blur of green sailed right by Grant, and thudded hard into the PR's chest, and once again, the PR was thrown back, through the doorway, across the hallway, and back against the stairwell with a crushing thud and lingering sparks of green magic wafting through the air in a trail.

The green soccer ball jolted back and Terry Jr. caught it, eyes wide. 

"Holy shit."

Grant and Terry Jr.'s exclamation escaped in unison, and they shared a brief glance before looking back at the now fallen PR.

Shock faded though, and Grant waved them all over, and then pointed at the large door leading out.

"Let's go, let's go, let's fucking _go_."

With that, and by some miracle, the five boys escaped the castle, the tower, their prison, and into the surrounding forest, the haven of heavy leaves and thick trees giving them cover and safety for a moment.

A moment was all they needed now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, everyone! Started a new job and it's trying to kill me, and nearly succeeding lol. 
> 
> There was a lot that went into this chapter, so I wanted to make sure I got it right and it flowed well. Only just barely got the outline done about four days ago when I talked out the dice rolls with a friend in real-time. I cried during plotting some of these scenes, so that was fun.
> 
> If you all would like to see it, I've been rolling dice for the boys and their major encounters/reactions in this story. I'll be posting those on my Tumblr, writing-out-my-inner-voices in the next day or so.
> 
> It won't include spoilers for this story, it's just a fun little addition I thought of.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. Hopefully I can get another chapter out faster next time.


	6. Chapter 6

Escaping through the trees, the sun steadily setting in a blur of pink, orange, and gold, the boys settled down once they found a deep dark cave behind a waterfall. 

It took a moment for things to sink in, for the grass to feel real under his shoes, for the crisp air to sink into his lungs. But here he was, and he was free, and they were out, and god-

He crumpled to the floor of the cave, lyre clutched to his chest as sobs wracked him anew, barely felt the touch of hands against his shoulders, the muffled, faded, distorted sounds of voices speaking that he couldn't quite comprehend.

Arms wrapped around him, and he swore he smelled his mom's perfume, shampoo, heard her laugh somewhere from the deep dark pit of his mind.

He clung, hugged tight, didn't want to let go even as cries tore out of him, faster and with more force when the hug tightened around him.

"Mom, I'm sorry, Mom, I'm sorry, Mom, I'm sor-"

His breathing was ragged, weary as he gasped for air, the action doing nothing to relieve the way his lungs constricted tight and ached. 

_I'm hyperventilating._

The edges of his vision blurred and faded, and his fingers slipped just a little, but the person holding him didn't let go, not until the pain and misery and exhaustion had passed, and the sobs slowly faded to barely heard sniffles.

Someone was saying something, and it took a moment for him to realize that someone was talking to _him_. He looked up and found Terry Jr. crouched in front of him, watching him, concern obvious in his expression.

_Everything hurts so much and I miss her._

"I'm hungry."

That wasn't what he meant to say, but it's what came out, and without missing a beat, Terry Jr. nodded, stood up, moved over to the other boys. 

He picked at the nail polish on his fingers, wishing he had more, fidgeted with the bracelets around his wrists, his rings.

_I wish my dad was here._

_I wish I had weed, fuck-_

If there was nothing else his dad had shown him so far, it was that grief could be muted by smoking, and _god_ , it felt so much better to not feel that pain than to feel it because it felt like a creature with long sharp claws digging right into his chest and dragging his heart out repeatedly.

_Like what Prometheus had to deal with in mythology, but worse._

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, hoping, wishing that maybe there were some flowers left over from before, something to take the pain away, the edge off.

_Everything hurts._

His fingers absently brushed over the intricate details of the lyre, his gaze drifting down to stare at it. It glowed blue, fading into purple, then fading once more into silver, the strings shimmering like they were just out of reach of this realm, the soft sweet notes easing into the air when he brushed fingers over them.

Tears still felt like fire rolling down his cheeks, but his grief was distracted as he played over the notes, strumming them gently, letting the soft tones of the instrument wash over him.

_Calm...I want to feel calm._

He hummed under his breath, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear his mother humming a lullaby, could feel her fingers stroking his hair, rubbing his back.

He strummed the same notes on the lyre, the lullaby of his mind finding its way into the world through the lyre, each note calming him, sinking him further, making him fall back into that memory of feeling safe and okay and enveloped in love.

_He blinked, and the cave had disappeared from in front of him, the walls now the walls of his home, the coffee table in front of him covered in clutter. He absently fidgeted with one of his bracelets, confusion flooding him._

_"How am I home?"_

_"I drove you here, sweetie. Don't you remember?"_

_The voice he never thought he'd hear again spoke up from the side, in the kitchen, and he looked up, found his mother staring right back at him, a grin on her face._

_"I'm cooking some dinner, do you want to help me?"_

_His throat closed up, sobs threatening to break out of him anew. Up off the floor, out of the living room, and into the kitchen, he barrelled into his mom, clinging to her tight. Her arms wrapped around him, warm, secure, safe. She hugged him, petted fingers through his hair, and for the first time in so long, he felt okay._

_"I can't believe you're here. How are you here?"_

_"What do you mean, how am I here? I live here."_

_She pulled back to look at him, her confused smile falling away into a concerned frown, eyebrows scrunching together._

_"Sweetie. Honey, what's wrong?"_

_Nick stared at her, the words, the truth, lost in his soul somewhere, his heart hammering so loud he could barely hear his thoughts, let alone her._

_After a moment of taking it all in, of his home being here, and him not being in the cave, and his mother being here, he breathed out the sharp ache of grief in his chest._

_It took a little more time to do so, finding the words hidden away further down in his soul that he had wanted to say for so long, wanted to tell someone for so long._

_"I miss you."_

_He got only confusion, and then he was pulled into a hug again, fingers teasing through his hair as she hummed softly again._

_"I'm right here."_

_He hugged her tight, clinging to her, not wanting to let go in any way shape or form._

_That hug lasted an eternity, and that was absolutely fine with him. She finally had to pull away, offering him a confused but caring smile before stepping back._

_"Let me finish dinner, and we can watch a movie?"_

_Nick felt hope burst in his chest, lighting him up and making him feel alive for the first time in a long time. He grinned, nodded, tears threatening to burn at his eyes again._

_"I'd love that. Can I help you?"_

_She nodded, explained what she was doing with the chicken and rice, with the vegetables, and slowly, they made the food together, laughing and singing and enjoying each other's company._

_With bowl of food in hand, he moved to sit down on the couch, his mother flopping down next to him with a big sigh. He laughed and snuggled into her shoulder, watching as she pulled up the movie selection on the screen._

_"Alright, so what movie-"_

He blinked and he found himself staring at the cave again, lyre fallen in his lap, his mother nowhere in sight and fading fast. Panic tightened his chest, fingers clutched at his hair, eyes wide as he looked around.

Which was when he noticed the four other boys sitting around him, staring at him, concern etched in all of their faces. Nick stared right back at them, swallowing hard, nerves flooding him.

"Sorry, I guess I fell asleep-"

"You didn't."

He looked at Sparrow, who looked far more invested in being concerned than Lark.

"...What do you mean?"

"Your eyes were open. We couldn't get you to snap out of it. You were just...gone."

A shiver iced its way down his spine, and he hugged the lyre tighter, fingers tracing over the designs again.

_I saw my mom because of this._

_What if they try to take it away from me?_

"Sorry, guys, I guess I...just really hardcore spaced out or something."

"For an hour?"

Terry Jr.'s skepticism didn't seem to reach the other boys, so Nick just shrugged, offered a smile.

"I'm _fine_ , I promise. It was just rough, but now we're safe. We're good. It's good. This is good. _I'm_ good."

Lark, Sparrow, and Grant all nodded, seemed to take the apology, the excuse, whatever it was, and accept it. He settled, but still found Terry Jr. watching him with a rather knowing look. His fingers curled a little and he ducked his head, avoiding his eyes. Only to have his stomach grumble loudly.

"Did we find food?"

"Yeah, actually, Lark and Sparrow managed to hunt some animals and find some berries. So we just need to make a fire."

Nick sat up a bit, eyes wide.

"I know how to make one. My mom taught me."

The other boys stared at him, and he swallowed, shrugged, moved to stand up. 

"She liked to cook."

"...You going to leave that here so it doesn't get damaged?"

Terry Jr.'s pointed comment drew him out of his thoughts, and with some hesitation, he nodded, moved to set it down on the ground, out of the way. He moved outside of the cave, and gathered up enough stuff to make a fire.

It soon was filling the cave with warmth and light, and the smell of cooking meat filled the air, the berries enough to tide them over as they slowly ate. It took some convincing, but the twins managed to find some vegetables and fruits, and Nick fried them so they wouldn't get sick. Even if he could see Lark all too obviously eyeing the meat from across the fire.

"So what do we do now?"

Nick glanced up, and found Sparrow looking at him, then at Grant, and finally at Terry Jr. 

He noticed that Lark continued to stare at the meat, but with the way he sat, Nick could tell the other boy was listening as well. Too many questions hovered in the air, and none of them had been answered so far. There were too many things at stake for them to rush back out of the cave, and into a potential trap or danger, which could lead them right back to being locked in a dungeon.

It was a good question. Where were they supposed to go now that they escaped?

"I think we should try to find our dads."

The suggestion came from Terry Jr., who seemed...calm for being someone who had, only a few hours before, been chained up in a room he would die if he left. Nick wished he knew how to be that put together. He wished he knew how to be that calm and collected in general.

"How?"

The additional question came from Grant, and Nick watched as Terry Jr. shrugged and pulled out a glowing spellbook, a rare grin lighting up his face, mischief finding its way back into his expression.

"Magic, probably."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two updates so close together! Not like it's a habit or anything.
> 
> Got inspired for this one. Going to try to focus on different boys each chapter. This one very obviously needed to be Nick, so here it is.
> 
> I made myself cry when I figured out where this was going. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy? Sort of? Kind of? Maybe? Lol.


	7. Chapter 7

Lark already had been feeling boredom seeping into him, from his skull all the way down to his toes.

Then he heard the word magic, and his eyes rolled back, a sigh barely contained somewhere in his lungs. 

The look he earned from his twin told him that the lack of an audible sigh did nothing to hide his lack of enthusiasm for the current topic of conversation.

Not that magic wasn't cool. It just wasn't awesome.

As Terry Jr. rambled on about spells or magic or books or whatever, Lark was mapping out the perfect path from where he was next to Sparrow, out to the great freedom of the forest.

His gaze flicked to Sparrow, who looked right back at him, then to the others.

His twin wouldn't throw him under the bus, and so, with the slightest nod, he slipped out of the cave, and into the open air.

No worthy foes revealed themselves the moment he stepped out of the cave, so what choice did he have but to seek them out himself?

A wolf, a bear, a dragon? The possibilities were endless. As long as it wasn't one of the Purple Robes, things would be fine.

His fingers curled around the smooth steel of the dagger at his side, the blue glow of it catching his eye. He stared for a long moment, feeling calm and peace, comfort wash over him.

_Well, that's annoying as fu-fri-heck._

He nibbled on some berries, some fried veggies that Grant had managed to cook up over the fire they built, even if he wished to eat some of the meat that had all but tasted like it would fall apart in his mouth when he ate it.

"I hate this diet."

The silence swallowed his words, and unease threatened to skate over him.

He glared at the threat the forest was daring to toss in front of him, and yanked the dagger out, standing his ground.

"Power."

It was dead silent. Nothing escaped the bushes, the trees, the leaves to meet his challenge. The dagger still glowed blue, peace enveloped him.

He fucking hated it.

He threw the weapon with a huff, agitation flooding him until he could hardly focus, fingers tangling in his hair, lightly digging into his scalp. 

"I hate this forest."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard his parents say hate was a strong word.

Lark's fists hit against the tree he leaned against, the pain of the impact lost to the relief of seeing chunks of bark falling down to the dirt.

The chaotic energy swirling through his chest, his stomach, his mind, eased just a bit. But it was enough.

He punched the tree again, a crack breaking the silence.

Pain shot up through his arm, and he crumpled. His teeth gritted hard, his jaw aching, tears burning at his eyes and threatening to fall.

_Don't cry, don't cry, don't-_

The bushes rustled, and his gaze shot up, lifting to eye the rustling leaves and potential threat, a barely heard whisper escaping him.

"Father?"

It was quiet for a moment, the question lost to the air, his brother's name ready to escape next as a large something emerged into view.

A dark red dog, fluffy tail included, trotted out happily from the bushes, panting happily, grinning right at Lark, it seemed.

He stared, a slow smile tugging at his lips.

"A very good boy."

He held his hurt hand out to the dog, holding his breath. Animals were always hit or miss with him, so this was the true moment of truth, of destiny, of power.

Would this large red dog accept him?

The dog crept forward to sniff his fingers, peeking up at him with warm brown eyes. He held his breath despite everything, and then, the dog licked his hand, and the pain faded.

He grinned and scrambled to his knees, to wrap arms around the dog's neck and cling to the creature in a hug, the dog holding no judgment or condemnation as tears finally poured down his cheeks.

_Accepted._

"I must be strong. I have to be strong. For father, mother, for Sparrow."

His gaze lifted to the dog's kind eyes once more, and it took him a long few seconds before he could speak past the lump in his throat, the weight of the world settling on his shoulders again.

"Will you help me?"

The question earned a happy bark, and Lark hugged the dog once more, petting fingers through his fur.

"Excellent."

Seeming to know the way back without much issue at all, the dog guided Lark back through the trees, back up the winding path, and back into the cave.

The shock on everyone else's face made Lark realize he really needed to escape the group more often, the shock and surprise and exasperation that emanated from everyone except his brother all too obvious.

"Uh, Lark?"

"Yes, Terry Jr?"

 _That_ had the slightly older boy blinking, and then pinching his nose in exasperation, a barely heard sigh escaping through slightly gritted teeth.

"Have you been gone this whole time?"

Lark grinned.

"Absolutely not."

He could see it when Terry Jr. tried not to sigh, and could also see when Terry Jr. tried to not roll his eyes. He had seen that very same look on his father's face, and relished in it, the chaotic energy dissipating just a bit more.

Which was when the other boys seemed to realize that 1) Lark had been missing for a while, and 2) Lark had been missing long enough to find a _dog_.

"Where'd you find the dog, Lark?"

Lark smiled more, and looked at the dog, who panted happily back at him.

"He found me! He is mine!"

A sigh finally escaped Terry Jr., and Lark offered an all too innocent smile to him, which was returned with a disapproving frown. 

"Lark, I...okay, you can...you can _keep_ the dog-"

"Of course I can, he's mine-"

"Lark, you _have_ to let us know you're leaving-"

"Sparrow knew-"

"I did, I knew, I watched him leave-"

"Okay, both of you need to let the rest of us know if you're leaving, okay? What if the PR's had found you?"

"...They did not."

Terry Jr. gave Lark a look that nearly rivaled his father's disapproving glare, and Lark felt the slightest bit guilty. Followed by even more determination to frustrate Terry Jr. because he was a rather hard egg to crack.

"But they could have, okay? We can't end up caught again. We _barely_ made it out the first time-"

"And you wouldn't go back if it did happen?"

Nick actually spoke up, asking that question, and Lark looked at the boy, who looked far more haunted than he should have, clinging to that lyre that emanated with all manner of mystery and despair.

Terry Jr. let out a sigh and looked at Nick. Lark snuck back over to Sparrow's side, who eagerly greeted the dog with hushed praise and 'who's a good boy's'.

"I wouldn't leave anyone behind, Nick. I'd just rather not have to plan a rescue mission after we just got out."

A noncommittal noise escaped Nick, and Lark watched Terry Jr. spin around a bit before locating him again.

"So, Lark? Sparrow? Everyone, actually? If one of us leaves, we need to let the other know where we're going. Okay?"

Lark barely managed to not roll his eyes _or_ yawn, which was a victory in itself, but he nodded, dragged his finger over his chest in an 'x' design.

"Cross my heart, oh captain."

"I'm not-never mind. I'm going to bed. We're leaving in the morning."

"Where are we going?"

Terry Jr. glanced back at Lark, then shrugged a shoulder.

"Back to our dads. Where else?"

Lark blinked in surprise, looked at Sparrow, who grinned right back. He looked at Grant, who looked determined despite looking dead inside, and looked at Nick, who seemed like he'd rather be anywhere else than where he was, staring with an empty gaze at the other side of the cave. HIs gaze finally turned back to Terry Jr., who was looking at him with a steady gaze for the first time in a long while.

"You have a plan to get us there?"

Terry Jr. finally smiled, relief flooding his face that Lark couldn't help but find the slightest comfort in. If he had confidence in the plan, then-

"I absolutely have a plan. We can fill you in tomorrow, since, you know, you left."

"Excellent. Give me the short version, thank you in advance."

Another sigh escaped Terry Jr., and Lark grinned as he and Sparrow snuggled against the dog for the night. He'd have to keep a tally mark chart if Terry Jr. kept getting so absolutely frustrated with his antics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: My cat would not let me write this chapter for two weeks. Only just barely finished it in the past couple nights because no work (yay!) and my cat has finally let me write. 
> 
> This was a super fun chapter to write, Lark is an interesting little character, and it was nice to finally get in his mindset. Poor kiddo. I'll be trying to update every two weeks starting now. If you'd like to chat with me about this dweebs and my writing progress (no spoilers :D), my Tumblr is writing-out-my-inner-voices.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this new chapter! Stay safe, stay positive, and hope you have a lovely day!


	8. Chapter 8

One thing others always seemed to know as soon as they met Lark and himself was that to take an eye off them was to welcome chaos.

One thing many people didn't know about them was that they managed to dream up a variety of ways to get around that.

Being twins, certain things became incredibly clear as you grew up, especially if you had two parents, working through successful careers, who were just a bit too scatter-brained.

They couldn't tell said twins apart. They could, probably, to some extent, if Lark answered to Lark, and he answered to Sparrow.

But there was far too much wiggle room, and even more room for error.

Which was how Sparrow managed to stand there, by himself, as Lark left the cave, and adjust his voice just a little that the other boys truly thought both twins were still there.

So when Lark was back from his adventure, Sparrow welcomed the distraction, petting the new dog with a mixture of awe and the slightest tinge of jealousy that curled up in his chest like a snake.

"How was your adventure to the outside world?"

That earned him a grin from Lark, and a soft 'boof' from the dog, which had his smile growing just a little. Even if the jealousy snake twisted just a bit more, deeper into his chest.

_Stop._

"Uneventful until I met this very good boy. How was the lecture of magic?"

_Shit, what did Terry say?_

He wracked his brain for a moment, worried that he had managed to listen to the entire lecture of magic and plans that Terry gave, and forget all of it. As panic settled, bits and pieces came back to him.

"Actually, really informative."

"Oh, do tell."

"Basically, Terry Jr.'s going to use the new staff he has to locate the dads, and we'll head on that way."

"Ah, perfect."

"Yeah, shouldn't be too bad at all."

"Does he know how long it might take?"

"Depends on where they are and how far they are."

"That makes sense."

Silence enveloped them like a blanket, and when Sparrow glanced over again, both dog and Lark was fast asleep. He swallowed carefully, and with practiced care, slipped out from under makeshift blankets, to escape out of the cave and into air that didn't threaten to smother him.

But the night still threatened to consume him, the stars and moon of the strange world offering no relief from the ache in his chest. He swallowed carefully, knelt on the ground, pressing hands to his eyes, to the dirt, digging deep into it.

_Sparrow._

He glanced up in shock, fingers curling into tight fists, panic dragging up through his entire body, twining around his spine.

_Sparrow?_

The voice was both familiar, and strange, distant and close. He reached for some kind of answer on just what it was, who it was.

_Over here._

He glanced over...wherever that was, towards the voice, even if it felt less like he was hearing it, and more like it was a thought.

It was dark, but after a moment of narrowing his eyes, he found two eyes glowing light green, peeking back at him from a burrow deep in the ground. Which was not exactly what he was expecting.

_Hello._

A soft giggle that definitely was the sound that came before a mental breakdown escaped him, and he pressed hands to his eyes, another soft little sound falling out of him. Definitely a sob.

Something pressed on his knee, and he glanced up, found...something staring back at him, his fear lost in being absolutely perplexed about what it exactly was.

_There you go. It's alright._

"What are you?"

He didn't mean to sound accusing, but that's how the words escaped him, and the creature, as surprised as him, recovered and stared at him. He swore it had understanding in its eyes.

_I'm a snake, and you, druid, are meant to have me as your familiar._

Sparrow stared at the snake, frozen, until another tap against his knee had him jumping, out of his shock. And right into fear.

"I'm a druid?"

_Indeed._

"I'm...I'm not like my father though."

_You are more like him than you realize, just as he's more like you and your brother than he'd care to admit._

"It's bad if he's like us?"

_Not at all. It just means he's afraid._

"Afraid of us?"

_Afraid of history, of mistakes, of time._

That went way over his head, and seemed more like the introspective bullsh-crap that Terry Jr. could understand. 

_You'll understand one day, young one._

He narrowed his eyes at the snake, watched it slowly curl up over his wrist, around his arm, up to his shoulder.

"I hate hearing that. Maybe I want to learn it now?"

The snake rested along his shoulders, quiet, and Sparrow nearly spoke up again, only to hear a mental chuckle.

_Maybe you're not ready?_

"Maybe I am?"

_When you fear being ready, when you feel uncertain, when you feel uneasy, you will be ready, young one._

Well that didn't make any sense at all, but he had about enough arguing with a _snake_ of all people. Of all things?

_Meh._

"Yeah, alright."

The snake twined around his shoulders, its cool body settling against him. He reached up without even thinking to brush fingers over smooth skin.

"Why me?"

_Why not you?_

Sparrow barely held back the biggest sigh he ever wanted to let out, and headed back towards the cave, rubbing at his arms, the slight chill in the air shivering across him. He glanced around, and barely caught sight of the faintest glimmer of purple in the distance before it faded again.

His eyes went wide, and he ran, not taking a moment to think or figure out just what to do. He scrambled into the cave with a wild fall of footsteps, harsh breathing, and the occasional hiss from the snake.

He glanced up and found the other boys looking at him, except Terry Jr. didn't look surprised at the fear in his gaze, but looked...resigned.

"The Purple Robes-"

Terry Jr. nodded before Sparrow could say anything else, and moved to stand up from the ground, gathering stuff up into packs and pockets.

"Yeah...we've got to move. Sooner rather than later."

Sparrow would have helped pack up stuff, if Lark hadn't gasped from his side, the method of how he got over to his twin so quickly a mystery left to the abyss.

"IS THAT A FUCKING SNAKE?!"


	9. Chapter 9

Grant had seemed like he wanted to talk to him, but Terry Jr. swore his heart might just leap right out of his chest, out on the floor, and start screaming at Grant. 

So Terry Jr. quickly called everyone together, and made plans to leave. By some miracle, even Sparrow and Lark listened. Nick took a bit more nudging, staring at the lyre that Terry Jr. was definitely tempted to steal from him so he'd focus for a second on the present.

Terry Jr. had always been an only child, despite knowing his mother and father would have liked more. Having Ron as a step-father, well, that taught him quickly how to wrangle in people. Kids, specifically. Ron was his step-dad, sure, but...boy, there

Too bad his dad had fucking died before that could happen. But maybe it was for the best.

He might have resented the younger kid for getting more time with his dad in those final months. So maybe it was better this way.

Not to mention, in the grand scheme of things and the way things turned out, he got three siblings without any sort of warning. 

Nick, Lark, Sparrow. Three siblings for the price of none. Except a soccer team and a fucked up road trip turned hell journey. 

But who was really counting? He wasn't.

Grant though...

Grant was-well, he was Grant. He wasn't a sibling, he was a friend. But...

_There's more._

At least for Terry, there was, and the ache in his chest whenever he glanced at Grant seemed to get worse with each passing day.

He'd been dreading staying cooped up in the cave for so damn long, less to do with the Purple Robes finding them, even if that was a concern, and more to do with the fact that the more Grant got close to him, the more terrified he was that he was going to do something he'd regret.

But the Purple Robes had started to catch up to them, and like fuck if he wasn't going to give them a run for their money.

With five kids, a dog, and a snake in tow, they traveled. They traded off carrying the bags. Or rather, he, Grant, and Nick traded off carrying the bags. Lark and Sparrow couldn't be trusted to stay upright long enough for that.

As they walked, Terry Jr. was absently bouncing the soccer ball on the ground, on his knee, off of his chest and back to the ground. He passed the ball to Nick, to Lark, to Sparrow, back to Nick, and finally to Grant. 

Maybe it was the fact that now he knew for certain the Purple Robes were after them, or it could have been the little fact that his emotions were threatening to flood right out of his mouth if he wasn't careful. So he found himself retreating to Nick's side. Nick didn't seem very talkative, and that was perfect for what he was dealing with at the moment.

Which was the way Grant's hair was catching the sunlight, and the way he was laughing when Lark and Sparrow both began fighting to steal the soccer ball from him, the way his dimples really showed when he was carefree-

"Fuck."

"What?"

He glanced over at Nick, offered a small smile, shrugged a shoulder. 

"Nothing, don't worry about it."

Nick's eyebrows rose, and Terry Jr. tried, and failed, to block Nick's view of what he had been looking at. 

A soft noise of realization escaped Nick, and Terry Jr. huffed, folding his arms over his chest.

"Should tell him-"

Terry Jr. shot him a look, and found Nick...staring past him, at the twins.

_Oh really?_

He grinned at Nick, who was now glaring at him.

"You first, Close."

"Fuck off, dude."

Terry Jr. grinned, finding an elbow jabbed right into his ribs before he could escape. But even as he felt the slight fear, the ache in his chest ease a little bit more, he felt it. 

The shaky sort of tremor under his feet that he had been feeling since they left, the spark under his feet that had him picking up his pace as they walked.

"Let's go, let's go, let's fucking go."

By some miracle, no one asked him to clarify what he meant. Even if nothing truly settled down near them, no odd creatures or people offering haven, they still moved, and they moved fast.

Not so fast it was insane, but fast enough that they managed to find an abandoned house to call their camp for the night.

Abandoned in the sense it was basically falling apart, which wouldn't be too hard to at least find one room they could retreat to in it. It was charred with fire, looked like it had been hit with a giant boulder at some point. 

But there they were, setting up a dreary but better-than-nothing camp in the middle of a house that looked like it might just collapse in on them if they breathed wrong.

Maybe it was for shock factor, or maybe it had simply just occurred to Sparrow, but he said a simple 'I got this', and vines wrapped up the walls and crisscrossed over the roof, making a far more effective shelter for the night.

He hadn't ever seen Sparrow do fucking anything like that, so it took him a solid minute to recover.

"Alright, we'll have to find food again, so-"

"They can hunt for us."

Lark pointed at the snake, then at the dog. Terry Jr. stared for a long moment at Lark, Sparrow, at the dog and snake in question. He threw his hands up in the air.

"Sure, why not, what a fucking weird place this is."

He heard the briefest shuffle behind him, which he only assumed was said dog, snake, and even Lark and Sparrow leaving. A hand on his shoulder had him tense, whipping around.

Grant stood behind him, eyes wide, hands raised in surrender.

"Hey, it's okay. It's me."

Terry Jr. sighed, and he saw the hurt in Grant's eyes before he could take his response back. He caught at Grant's arm.

"Hey. Hey, I'm sorry. I'm stressed."

Grant nodded after a moment, lightly tapping his shoulder with a fist, managing a very small smile.

"Should calm down a bit then."

From somewhere behind Grant, Terry Jr. saw Nick give him a very pointed look and gesture dramatically in a way that could only mean 'TELL HIM YOU FUCKING IDIOT'.

Terry Jr. tapped Grant's shoulder with his arm as he walked past him, flipping Nick off quickly before moving around the room to try to find the stuff to build a fire. Out of the corner of his eye, and when Grant's back was turned, he saw Nick flip him off right back.

He wasn't stepping in the way of Grant's happiness, not if there was a chance Grant still had feelings for Yeet. If Yeet possibly could return those feelings. Grant had said nothing happened, but who was to say nothing would.

"Hey, Terry, need some help?"

He glanced up to find Grant holding a few chunks of wood, a few broken sticks, and couldn't help but smile a bit.

"Sure. Set them down in the fireplace, Grant. Thanks."

With safety once again a possibility, all the boys safe, and soon, the wondrous smell of food cooking on the fire, Terry felt his heart settle a bit. Maybe they really could get back to their dads, and get out of this.

Even as this thought shifted through him, he felt another tremor of magic ache through his hands, his heart, his head. With a full stomach finally, and a corner of the room to himself, he wrapped his arms around his knees, and hid his face from view, trying to get the foreign pain of this newfound magic out of his chest.


	10. Chapter 10

He hoped he was overthinking it, but...

_Is Terry Jr. avoiding me?_

Thoughts swirled and smashed around inside his head as he helped Terry Jr. build a fire, and then helped him cook food once again. As it turned out, the dog and snake could absolutely hunt for them, which proved both helpful and aggravating, as the twins started to sing songs about the great warriors, the snake and the dog.

Which wasn't quite bad in and of itself, but good _God_ they were off pitch.

To find some semblance of freedom frrom the noise and his thoughts and everything, he snuck outside, the slight chill of the wind lost in the gentle blanket of warmth the summer-soaked forest provided.

He sucked in a deep breath, tried to feel the ground more firmly under his feet, tried to inhale the smell of the trees and the grass and the oncoming rain-

_Rain?_

He glanced up, and it took him a moment to find the true culprits, but there they were, large billowing clouds that only seemed to grow larger and larger as they all but devoured the inky blue of the starry night sky.

Maybe it was paranoia, maybe it was just plain old unease, but as he watched the clouds creep more steadily across the sky, his heart sunk in his chest, his stomach twisted, his fists curled at his sides.

_Just let us have one moment of fucking peace. Dammit._

A hand on his arm caught his attention, and he looked down to find Sparrow looking up at the clouds as well, before looking up at him.

The boy was easily a head shorter than him, and so it didn't stop him from ruffling Sparrow's hair, trying to offer comfort when words wouldn't find their way out of his throat.

_Are we going to get back to our dads?_

_Are we going to get caught again?_

_Are we going to die?_

Sure, the Purple Robes had said that they needed the kids alive, but...was that forever? Or would there be a point where they wouldn't need them alive anymore?

That thought process wasn't great for his mental state, or the cramping twists aching through his stomach, and he huffed out a soft breath.

"Berries?"

He took the offered fruits from Sparrow, and despite everything telling him to go back inside and enjoy the peace, however long it lasted, he stayed, watching as the dark blue of the sky was swallowed up by pitch black clouds.

_This isn't a great sign._

That was probably the biggest understatement of the century, but here he was, deeming a gigantic black cloud of doom as not 'a great sign'.

With some effort, he turned away from the darkness, gently guided Sparrow back towards the house, taking one last glance back towards the clouds.

Only to find flickering lights staring back at him from said clouds.

_This is the time to run._

Fear, dread, unease, anxiety, all got shoved to the side as he watched the lights hover in the air, and then dart off. Against his better judgment, against all the logic buried somewhere deep in his brain, he took off after the lights, darting through trees and bushes, barely hearing the sound of the other boys calling out his name.

He thought perhaps it'd be the dads, or a friend they'd made along the way, or anyone else who might have been able to help them get somewhere far more safe than some abandoned house in the middle of nowhere. The thunderous thud that made the trees shake and the ground tremble under his feet told him he should definitely turn around and run the opposite way. But he pushed forward, shoving branches aside to look at just what was near them now.

In front of what was definitely a mech airship, about the size of a semi-truck, all patched together with various metals and such, was the last person he would have expected to see again. Yeet Bigley.

He stood there, frozen, his heart racing, his words catching like glass in his throat, their last encounter flooding his mind as he watched, as if in slow motion, Yeet turn around and stare right at him.

_Can I kiss you, maybe?_

_Oh, I'm not-_

"Grant?"

_Shit._

He expected Yeet to ignore him, he expected maybe an awkward silence, he really honestly expected Yeet to falter and hesitate, or even just get angry at him for how the tournament had turned out.

He certainly didn't expect Yeet to skate up to him, grass and dirt be damned, and tackle him in a hug.

"Dude! You're alright! Shit's been going down everywhere, I was hoping you were okay."

_He did?_

"You did?"

"Of course, man."

Yeet punched him in the shoulder, and Grant laughed a bit, a little bit in humor, but mostly in shock. He rubbed at his arm, glanced up to find Killah staring down at them from the deck of the ship. She waved, and he waved back.

"What are you doing here, Yeet?"

"Yeah, Yeet. What the _fuck_ are you doing here?"

Grant glanced back, and found the other boys behind him, most of them catching their breath. All except Terry Jr., who was glaring daggers right at Yeet.

Yeet either ignored the animosity or missed it entirely, but he shrugged, gestured behind him at the ship.

"Came back home to pick some stuff up. What are you guys doing out here?"

Grant stared at Yeet, then glanced around.

"Home?"

"Yeah, the beat-up house a little bit ways back through the trees."

_Shit._

"Didn't know it was your place."

"No worries if you guys are staying there. There's plenty of space for all of us."

_All of us?_

_Shit._

Grant glanced back at Terry Jr., and seriously wondered if there'd be enough space between him and Yeet to avoid the daggers Terry Jr. was all but determined to stab through him with eye contact alone.

"Let's head on back. It's been a minute since we've been here. When were we here last, Killa?"

Killa was on the ship deck one second, phasing through the air, and appearing on the ground the next. It took little for them to all start walking back towards the house.

"Maybe a month or so ago?"

"Oh that's not bad. There might still be some food around-"

"We had to hunt a bit."

Grant noticed the animosity, and tried to shoot Terry Jr. a comforting look, but he was ignored. That smarted almost as bad as seeing Yeet again.

"No worries, we can help find some food-"

"We already have food."

That response from Terry Jr. was just as clipped as the next, and even Nick, Lark, and Sparrow were shooting Grant glances, silently asking what was going on. He shrugged, not really certain about why Terry Jr. was suddenly very hostile towards Yeet.

"Do you mind if we have some of that food you made? We've been kind of running around like crazy since the tournament."

He heard Killah ask the question and heard Terry Jr.'s reluctant reply, but he _felt_ Yeet glance over at him, however briefly. They both knew what happened at the tournament, and even if it seemed like Yeet had forgotten what Grant had said, that told him enough. Yeet hadn't forgotten in the slightest.

Grant was certain Yeet might just burst into flames at some point, but then Terry Jr. was offering both Yeet and Killah a far too forced smile as he led the way back.

"Sure why not? Plenty for everyone."

The walk back was truly painful, with the weight of awkwardness that Grant had been expecting finally settling in, along with the anxiety and agitation he'd been shoving down from the thought of seeing Yeet again after...everything.

So when he retreated to a different room to get some kind of solace, some kind of control over his emotions, over the tears burning down his cheeks, the hand on his shoulder didn't really surprise him. He thought it was Sparrow, and turned to look at him.

Only to find Terry Jr. instead.

"Grant...what's wrong?"

Maybe it was just needing to vent, or maybe it was stress, or maybe it was just collectively everything, but the conversation he had with Yeet, and Yeet's reaction, flooded out of him in a rush. He found Terry Jr. hugging him, found himself eventually calming down. What he had said was lost in the fog of anxiety, but he remembered some pieces of what he had told Terry Jr.

_I thought he might like me._

_I told him I couldn't feel without being hurt or having feelings for someone._

_I asked to kiss him and he-_

He managed to stop talking when he felt Terry Jr. retreat a little. Grant barely felt TJ pat his shoulder, and glanced up, watched him leave the room. 

His brain finally caught up and he hurried after Terry Jr., too late to stop him as he hovered outside the door, listened as Terry Jr.'s voice echoed a bit too loudly around the room, and out into the hall.

"How about a fun friendly game of soccer tomorrow?"

The foreboding that settled deep in Grant's stomach weighed him down just that much more when he heard Yeet's enthusiastic response:

"Sure, you're on."

Once he figured out how to breathe again, and when he managed to sneak back into the room without anyone noticing, he glanced up and found Terry Jr. staring at him. The smile he got, along with the reassuring sort of stare made him feel both relieved and anxious for whatever TJ was truly planning. But he knew enough from the way TJ looked away from him to keep glaring at Yeet as they all ate.

_This....is not going to end well._


	11. Chapter 11

**Nick**

It didn't take a genius to figure out Terry Jr. was fucking pissed.

It also didn't take a genius to figure out that Terry Jr. was decidedly pissed at Yeet, for whatever reason.

But Nick noticed, and while that didn't make him a genius, it did make him wary, watchful.

He might have refused to play the game, he was far more eager to see his mother again, wanted to talk to her again, wanted to hug her.

The conversation had been rather finalistic.

"Alright, who's playing?"

Yeet had asked the question, and it was a fair question.

Terry Jr. had answered for all of them.

"We all are. What about you?"

Nick remembered Yeet shrugging and gesturing to their small group of five.

"Just us."

He swore Terry Jr. scoffed, but when no one else brought it up, he figured he had just heard wrong.

When they started to separate for the night, he approached Terry Jr.

"Hey, Terry, I'm not really feeling up for playing. Can I-"

The look in Terry Jr.'s eyes had been as empty as darkness, as stormy as a black sky with incoming lightning. Nick's question had been lost to the void that was the silence between them, and without something keeping him there, Terry Jr. vanished down one of the many hallways.

He retreated to his own room that the twins decided they wanted to share with him, settling down for the night. Terry Jr. had worked hard so that each room had fires going, so at least it wasn't cold.

Not to mention, Sparrow had worked to crisscross vines across the roof of the room once more. So the elements didn't escape into the room with them, and the heat stayed curled up around them.

Nick's hands found their way to the lyre, catching it up in his lap. He didn't strum the strings, not after what happened last time, and not with the weight of the twins' gazes on him.

His mother's voice had been echoing in his head this whole time, and the need he felt for one of her hugs, fake or not, swarmed him. He closed his eyes, fingers brushing over the strings.

"Nick!"

He hadn't heard them come up, but then Lark and Sparrow were there in front of him, holding the lyre just out of reach, out of his hands.

"Give it back, guys."

Sparrow looked at Lark, who shook his head. Nick sighed, his breath a huff as he sat up against the wall behind him.

"I wasn't going t-"

"Don't lie, Nick."

"Yeah, you suck at lying."

Nick narrowed his eyes and held his hands out for the lyre. In a show of either good faith or just not willing to fight him about it, the twins gave it back. Nick hugged it to his chest.

Sparrow rested a hand on his arm, blue green eyes wide.

"We're just worried-"

"It lets me see my mom."

He saw their eyes widen, he saw them look at each other, and he hugged the lyre tighter, careful of the strings, even as it all but hummed in his lap.

"Nick, that's not-"

Surprisingly, that was Lark, who also looked considered, if not a little more on edge than normal.

"Shut up, just let me have it, okay?"

The night had ended with Lark and Sparrow retreating only a few feet away, still watching him, still concerned. He hadn't played the lyre, had simply held it as it hummed, taunting him with what he could have seen, what he could have had.

So here he was now, trying to prepare himself for playing soccer for the first time in months. He stretched, let out a soft breath, found the twins on either side.

His heart nearly threw itself out of his chest, but they didn't notice, too focused on Grant and Terry Jr., who were talking in hushed tones on the side of the improvised field.

_Well, that's a relief. Glad they're not focused on me-_

"What do you think they're talking about?" Nick's question was calm enough, even if he earned a watchful look from both the twins before they looked away.

"Hopefully the elephant in the room."

Nick looked at Sparrow, who was looking absolutely done with Terry Jr. and Grant's shit specifically.

"What, their feelings for each other?"

Lark shrugged.

"Oh that too, but also the fact that Yeet rejected Grant-"

Nick stared at Lark, then Sparrow, finally back up at the other boys.

"How do you know?"

"Grant hadn't mentioned Yeet when we all got back together."

"It was just kind of a process of elimination."

Nick felt bad that he hadn't even noticed Grant was struggling with something like that. Not that it could be helped, or that he could have helped, but he certainly would have wanted to be there for him.

"Yeah, sure hope they talked it out."

"Five bucks they didn't."

"God, Lark, that's pessimistic."

"I'm nihilistic in the grand scheme of things."

"Jesus Christ."

"Not to mention realistic because they're both idiots."

"Lark-"

Nick went quiet as Grant approached them. He saw the concern Grant gave Terry Jr., who only rubbed his temples.

Nick frowned. He really wanted to try to call off the game, but Terry Jr. looked just as likely to snarl at him as he might kick Yeet's teeth in. He reached a hand out for him, rested it on Terry Jr.'s shoulder.

"Dude, you okay to do this?"

That earned him a glare before Terry Jr. kicked the soccer ball up, caught it and shoved under his arm.

"Fucking perfect. You ready?"

Ready as I'll ever be. Fuck.

Nick managed a weak, reluctant shrug, and a similar sort of smile when he responded.

"Sure, man. Let's play some soccer."

"Fucking finally."

That was the shared sentiment of both the twins, and despite everything, Nick couldn't help laughing at that. Maybe this could be a fun game. Tentative maybe? Hopeful maybe?

He watched Terry Jr. and Yeet walk up to the middle line of the field, watched the soccer ball float up between them, could almost swear he saw the anger falling off of Terry Jr. in waves.

The game forgotten, he booked it, tried to run up to Terry Jr. before whatever he was planning happened. He didn't quite have a plan, but tackling Terry Jr. down onto the grass was definitely not his first thought.

But it was what happened.

"What the fuck, dude?!"

Well, there goes that.

**Lark**

Lark was always down for a fight in any way, shape, or form.

Not so much when it wasn't discussed beforehand, much less when it was over something like feelings.

Fights over feelings weren't great. They usually just ended up sucking to high hell-heck.

The fight he had been expecting was Terry Jr. in one way or another throwing a punch at Yeet. That was kind of inevitable.

The sky was blue.

The water was blue.

The sun rose and fell in whatever screwy cycle it chose.

Terry Jr. was definitely going to throw a punch at Yeet's face at some point.

Facts.

Inevitable.

Feelings.

Not a great fight.

What he didn't expect was Nick running from his spot on the field, much less tackling Terry Jr. down before the game even started.

He cupped his hands over his mouth, and yelled.

"Nick! Wrong team! Also! It's soccer, not football!"

That earned him a smack against his shoulder, and he glanced over to find Sparrow staring at him with one of those expressi-

Terry Jr. managed to shove Nick off of him, and smack away the hand Yeet offered to help him stand up. Nick stood up with some effort, wrapping arms around himself.

Ugh.

"You're giving me a look like our father does."

He watched Sparrow fold his arms and give him a look that was far too similar to their mother's.

"By the Doodler, I really have to do everything around here." Lark sighed loudly, and walked over to Nick and Terry Jr.

Terry Jr. was angry, that was also inevitable, and Nick was just, well, he looked scared.

He grabbed Terry Jr.'s arm, could already guess that Sparrow had grabbed Nick's arm, and they all headed back into the house.

He heard Grant following behind them, with a very uncertain shout towards the Hottiez of, "We'll be back in a sec! Everything's alright."

Once they were inside, Lark let go of Terry Jr., and looked at Grant.

"Everything is not alright, Grant. You know that."

"Lark-"

"No, for f-fuck's sake. It's not okay, this is not okay."

He pointed Terry Jr., then pointed at one end of the house.

"You get to go sit down and breathe for a second."

"You."

He pointed at Nick, then at the other end of the house.

"Over there."

Terry Jr. kicked the stairwell hard as he went, slamming the door behind him. Nick went far more quietly, shutting the door behind him.

Grant stood there, and Lark really had to hand it to him. He was...absolutely lost.

"What just happened?"

Good Doodler, give me strength.

"It's complicated."

Grant looked over in the direction of the room Terry Jr. had vanished into. Lark waved him off. He wasn't cut out for this shit.

"Go. Talk to him. Maybe he'll chill out if he talks to you."

Grant grimaced, hesitating before finally heading down the hall, and heading into the room.

Well, maybe he wouldn't chill out. Maybe their group dynamic had gone to shit and everything was absolutely going up in flames. Fuck.

Well that's a great sign. Fuck everything.

He looked at Sparrow, then flung his hands into the air before heading for the room Nick had escaped into.

He opened the door, found Nick staring at the wall. Sparrow looked over his shoulder.

"Nick, I know you're upset with him, or...upset for whatever reason, but-"

"Lark!"

He glanced up. Sparrow had squirmed into the room and was sitting in front of Nick, who wasn't reacting. Lark moved to crouch down in front of Nick, the soft low sound of the lyre filling the room, a low, slow sad song.

"Shit."

He glanced back at the hallway, at the closed door where maybe Grant and Terry Jr. were talking about their feelings, or Terry Jr. was talking about his, or something, then looked back at Nick.

"Let's try to wake him."

They tried, they shook him, they tried to pry the lyre from his hands, they said his name, they nearly shouted his name.

Still, Nick sat there, unresponsive, and Lark felt a rather foreign ache in his chest settle into something that twisted and writhed and snarled like a beast.

Fear.

He glanced up at the door, and found the dog, his dog, staring back. He pointed at the door.

"Get Grant, get Grant!"

The dog barked and ran down the hallway, dragging the other boy out of the room, and into the room where Nick was.

He stared up at Grant, who looked more upset than he had before he walked into Terry Jr.'s room.

Fuck it, this is more important.

"Help. We need to snap him out of it."

Lark saw Sparrow's concern, saw Grant glance back down at the hallway, and Lark huffed, kicking the door shut.

"Please, Grant."

That caught the other boy's attention, and he watched as Grant crouched down. Grant tried the typical things, shaking Nick's shoulders, saying his name, nearly yelling it, tried tugging the lure out of his hands.

Finally, he smacked Nick hard, across the face.

Nick jolted awake, out of the trance with a sob and wail of anguish, the noise piercing right into Lark's chest.

"Wow. That was the last, last resort. Way to go, Grant."

Faintly, he heard Nick whisper under his breath, "Fuck. Ow."

He looked at Nick.

"Stop going into trances."

Nick frowned and ducked his head. With some effort, Lark softened his voice.

"You scared the shit out of me. Please. Don't."

He found Nick looking back at him, and held his breath. After far too long, Nick nodded, but Lark didn't know if he trusted that nonverbal answer.

It's at least something.

He looked at Sparrow, then up at Grant.

"So why the fuck were you looking towards the room Terry Jr. was in?"

Grant winced, and met his gaze.

"Uh, Yeet just walked in there."

Sparrow bolted to his feet.

"Seriously, Grant?"

Grant threw his hands up in the air.

"Sorry?!"

Lark waved at both of them to settle down, then pointed at Sparrow.

"You, can you go see if they're fighting?"

Sparrow nodded and headed down the hallway. Grant nearly followed, but Lark stepped into his path.

"Nope."

"Why not, Lark?"

"You make things worse, specifically for Terry Jr."

He watched the shock, the pain, the hurt write itself across Grant's face, and saw the inevitable empty neutral expression wash over it. Lark sighed, ran his hands through his hair.

"That's not what I meant."

"Fuck off, Lark. It's exactly what you meant."

With little effort, Grant shoved Lark out of the way, heading down the hallway, and out of the house.

With a string of swear words and a few choice kicks to the wall, Lark slumped back down to the floor.

"Well, fuck this whole thing, I guess."

"Hey, Lark, it's okay."

He felt Nick's hand on his shoulder, felt his hands dig into his hair, felt panic start to climb up his chest. He swore and kicked the floor, barely missing the lyre.

Nick gathered up the lyre and set it aside, and Lark mumbled out an apology.

"It's okay. I'm...sorry that happened. You didn't mean it-"

"I didn't-"

"He'll figure that out-"

"Will he?"

Lark jumped a little when he felt fingers delving into his hair, glanced over to find Nick's fingers in his hair, trying to soothe him.

"It'll be okay."

It was wishful thinking, and it probably wasn't true, but...

It'll be okay...

"God, I hope so, Nick. Because it'll fucking suck if it isn't."

Nick offered him a sympathetic look, but kept calming him with the light touches in his hair. Lark flinched again, which made Nick's hand flinch away, out of his hair.

"Sorry, Lark."

"No, it's fine. Just not used to it."

He watched Nick pull back and swore.

Why is this so fucking hard. Fuck.

"Sorry."

His own hands moved up into his hair, and he ducked his head against his knees, felt tears burn down his cheeks.

"Not your fault, Nick. It's just me..."

**Sparrow**

Sparrow walked down the hallway, about ready to bash the door open when he heard...calm voices talking.

The mystery of what was being said was lost on him, and it's not like he could sneak the door open.

He could try, but that wasn't quite...right.

He looked at the snake, who was wrapped around his shoulders once more.

"Can you listen to what they're saying?"

_If I do, what will you do with the information?_

Sparrow flailed his arms out, exasperation flooding him.

"I'd help my friends."

_What if they need to figure this out on their own?_

"What if that's bullshit?"

The snake gave him a look that nearly reminded him of his father he almost apologized. But he knew well enough. It certainly wasn't his father. His father would have shifted back once he heard either of them swearing.

_You must let them work this out on their own. You can be there to help, but you can't give them these answers._

Sparrow sighed, wrapped arms around himself.

"What do I do now, then?"

_You go back to Lark and Nick. They need you._

"What about Grant?"

_He left already. Let him have his time._

He let out a soft sigh, rubbing his arms.

"Will you still listen to them?"

_Yes, I promise._

Sparrow, putting forth a lot of effort, finally turned away from the door, and let the snake slither off his shoulders.

He headed back to the room, finding Lark upset, fingers tangled in his hair. Nick was trying to calm him down. Sparrow knelt down near Lark and hugged him without a word.

With little fight, Lark sunk into the hug, and Sparrow hugged him, hiding his tears, hiding his pain.

"You are strong, brother. Don't ever forget that."

A soft sob escaped Lark and he just held him, running fingers through his hair. His eyes met Nick's, who was watching them with a solemn sort of attentive gaze. He offered Nick a small smile.

"Glad you're back with us..."

The scoff he got out of Nick was at least something, but...

_We need to talk about outlets..._

"You doing okay, Nick?"

Nick scoffed again, and Sparrow figured that was a fair enough response.

"I'm sorry, just...it's scary to watch you be so lost."

He saw Nick's gaze move down to Lark, then back up to him.

"Lark said that too."

Sparrow's eyebrows rose, and he glanced at Lark, who...was dozing off in his arms. He snuggled him so he was more comfortable, then looked at Nick.

"He did?"

Nick nodded, looked just as shocked by this as he felt.

"Yeah, I...never expected to hear him say he was afraid. I never expected either of you to say that."

Sparrow smiled a little, but he felt the bitter taste in his mouth. He was just one of two twins. That held true even for Nick.

_Wait. He had known he was talking to Lark-_

_No, he only knew because we said the other's name._

_Is that true?_

_Is it possible maybe he can tell who we are?_

"Sparrow?"

He glanced up to find Nick staring at Lark, at him.

"Do you think I could-"

Nick gestured at his shoulder, and Sparrow stared at him.

_What did he want-oh-_

He moved to sit next to Nick against the wall, shifting Lark so Nick could have a shoulder, felt Nick settle down against the wall, felt his head rest against his shoulder.

Courage both evaded him and flooded him, but his hands shook regardless.

_I think that's called anxiety._

With more effort than he'd ever admit, he reached up to tease fingers into Nick's hair, felt the other slump all too easily against him. He felt it when Nick settled, relaxed, and fell asleep. It felt exactly how Lark felt sleeping in his arms.

Only it was different. He turned his head, barely, to see Nick, to see if he could see his face-

He could, and Nick looked so relaxed, more so than he did when he was in the lyre trance.

Something sparked in his chest, and he muttered a soft swear word under his breath.

_Dammit. I have it bad._

**Terry Jr.**

Terry Jr. was fuming, but that wasn't anything new apparently.

He kicked the ball up against the wall, once, twice, three times.

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

Maybe he had caught up the soccer ball when they were on the field, maybe it had followed him like some sort of sentient...soccer ball.

_God, I am losing my fucking mind._

Grant had come into the room, asked if he was alright, and thank god for whatever crisis pulled him away, because Terry Jr. was worried that he might just punch Grant next for being oblivious to why he was upset.

_What's wrong, Grant? Let me pull out the whole fucking list and read it to you._

_Christ._

He kicked the ball again, it bounced off the wall and back behind him. He waited for the sound of it to hit the ground but it didn't. He glanced back-

_Yeet._

He sighed, a harsh breath that nearly threatened to make him gag with how strong of a breath it had been. He moved over, taking the ball back from Yeet.

"Hey, man...you alright?"

"Sure, dude. Fucking peachy. Fucking stellar. Fucking great."

Yeet offered him a smile like he knew why Terry Jr. was upset.

_How fucking dare-_

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really? Not with you?"

That came out harsh, enough to make Yeet roll back a little from him a little. Terry Jr. glanced down at his skateboard, his wheels, his feet for lack of a better word.

_Good. Stay away from me._

Yeet sighed, and Terry Jr. glared at him. But he was met instead of Yeet raising his hands up, surrender-

"Terry, I don't know what he told you-"

"He didn't have to tell me much. You were a fucking dick to him."

"I-"

"You rejected to him? He opened up to you, in the midst of all this bullshit we're going through-"

"I, listen-"

"And you fucking rejected him-"

Terry Jr. took a second to breathe, and Yeet just ran his hands through his hair, rolling back and forth. It took a second for Terry Jr. to realize, but he was...pacing.

_He's...nervous._

"Okay, before you fucking snap my neck or punch me. Which, whatever. Just hear me out."

Anger still boiled under the surface, still threatened to drive his fist right into Yeet's face. But after a moment, he stepped back, gestured widely in front of Yeet.

"You have five minutes. Five. To convince me you're not a piece of shit."

Yeet let out a breath, and Terry Jr. folded his arms, waiting not quite so patiently. He watched Yeet take a breath, felt that urge to punch him again, but Yeet held up a hand, a finger.

"You said five minutes. At least give me that."

With some effort, Terry Jr. picked up the ball, holding it tight in his arms.

"Fine. Go for it."

Yeet leaned back against the wall, and finally sat down, fingers tapping nervously against each other before he looked up at Terry Jr.

"Look, when Grant confessed to me, I...I had no idea this was even...fuck."

Terry Jr. stared at him, as Yeet dragged a hand through his hair again, and finally noticed the other was shaking again.

"He told me what he was feeling, or what he wasn't. That he wasn't feeling anything unless he felt pain or caused pain or...I mean I guess he was getting at he doesn't feel anything unless he...has feelings for someone."

Terry Jr. set the ball down and moved to sit down on the ground, his shoulders slowly untensing, the anger slowly sapped away as calm overtook him, the ball in his arms now glowing red.

Yeet stared at the ball, then at him before continuing.

"Then he asked if he could kiss me, and I...I mean, he's Grant. He's my friend. Maybe if...God, maybe if he wasn't going through this shit-"

He felt anger flare up again, but settled when Yeet held up his hands.

"I still have two minutes, man."

Yeet continued, and with some effort, Terry Jr. listened.

"If he hadn't been going through this shit, if he hadn't told me he needed to hurt someone or hurt himself or...whatever, to feel something. Maybe it could have happened. But I can't be that for him. Not...not right now. Maybe not ever. I can't...do that. I have my own shit I'm dealing with."

His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head.

"What kind of stuff, Yeet?"

Yeet sighed.

"My and Killah's parents being dead, for starters? Trying to fucking survive? Just trying to get food and money to keep living. I don't...I can't be what he needs, Terry."

With some effort again, Terry Jr. felt the anger ease out of him entirely, and he let the ball fall out of his lap and watched it roll to the other side of the room. He looked at Yeet, who stared back at him.

"He said that you said 'I'm not-'"

Yeet shrugged.

"I was going to say, 'I'm not sure that's what you need right now, and I'm not sure I can be what you need.' But he ran away so quickly, and...honestly, after the game I was so upset, I didn't want to see him."

Terry Jr. let out a soft breath, and then stood up, moving over to offer Yeet a hand so he could get up. Yeet straightened up.

"Thanks for telling me, dude."

Yeet shrugged a bit, offered a small smile that was more than a little uncomfortable.

"I figured you were going to punch me or something so...I just wanted to clear things up. I thought it might be about Grant."

Terry Jr. let out a soft laugh, a bitter one, and shrugged.

"It sure is. Alright. I need to go find him. Thanks for the chat."

Yeet tapped his shoulder once before he got out of the room.

"I take it the game's canceled for now?"

Terry Jr. grinned and held his hand out for a fist bump, and Yeet hit their knuckles together.

"Yeah, we'll kick your asses another day."

"You're on, dude."

He left Yeet in the room and walked down the hall, opening it to find Nick, Lark, and Sparrow...asleep.

Oh wait, only Nick and Lark. Sparrow stared up at him, and Terry Jr. waved.

"Are you calmer now?"

Terry Jr. smiled apologetically. "I am. Where's Grant?"

"He and Lark got in a fight. He left."

His smile faded and he swore, turning back around and getting out of the house once more, to find Grant, who was nowhere to be seen.

Killah walked past the doors, heading inside, and Terry Jr. stopped her.

"Hey, hey, have you seen Grant?"

Killah offered a small smile to him and nodded, pointed back towards behind the house.

"If you follow the path back, he's sitting at the waterfall. We talked for a bit."

Terry Jr.'s eyebrows furrowed.

"Is he alright?"

Killah shrugged.

"He's as well as he can be."

_Fuck._

"Thanks, Killah. Your brother's inside."

Killah nodded, and vanished, phasing right through the walls.

Terry Jr. took a steadying breath, and headed back around the house, and along the path leading towards the sound of falling water.

**Grant**

_This was not going to be a fun game._

_This would be nothing short of a bloodbath, if not one entirely._

He still couldn't remember exactly what he had told Terry Jr. the night before in his rush of emotion, but his thoughts leading up to the game had been correct.

It had been bad. Not as bloody as he was worried about, but enough.

He'd expected one hell of a soccer game, with plenty of ways to vent, to rage, to get his anger out.

Grant hadn't expected for Terry Jr. to do all that for him before the game even started.

The chaos with Terry Jr., with Nick, with seeing Yeet go into the room, and finally, the twins, well, it was more than he could deal with.

_You cause a lot of trouble. Especially for Terry Jr._

It was true. He was probably the worst of them all in handling his emotions. His track record for that wasn't great, and his coping mechanisms were abysmal.

But he couldn't talk about it, couldn't handle the idea of voicing his thoughts, his feelings.

He had told Terry Jr. what had happened, however briefly, and look at what happened.

They had peace, they had calm, they had quiet, and Grant had once again fucked that all up.

He found his way to the waterfall, letting the stray droplets hit against his face, his hands, until he felt some sort of control return, felt the rage lessen just a little.

His eyes burned and he pressed his fingers to them to try to stop the flow of the tears before it happened. They still escaped between his fingers, and a long list of swear words fell out of him before he could stop himself.

"Yo, Grant. Dealing with some shit, yeah?"

He brushed the tears away, and found himself looking up at Killah. He shrugged and dropped down, pulling his shoes and socks off to soak his feet in the cold water. After a moment, he felt her sit down and join him.

"Some shit. Yeah."

She patted his shoulder. She hadn't really ever been the type to comfort him. For the record, neither had Yeet. Grant had pushed that on him.

"Does he hate me?"

"Yeet?"

Grant nodded, and Killah smiled, pulled her hand away.

"No, of course not. He's confused. But...no, he doesn't hate you."

That was a relief. It was an empty sort of relief, and he wondered why the ache in his chest didn't ease like he thought it might.

"I just thought he might like me back-"

"I know. That's why you told him. I understand."

He glanced up at her, found her staring at him, waiting patiently for him to continue.

Words flooded out before he could stop himself, describing everything so far, why he had liked Yeet, why he had opened up, why he had wanted the kiss.

The weight on his chest, on his shoulders, eased just a little but not entirely once more, and he kicked the water in frustration.

"...You okay, dude?"

Grant looked at her, then up at the sky, shrugged.

"I thought getting closure about him would be better, would make me feel better, would make me feel...okay."

Silence met his response, and he glanced over. She was staring up at the sky as well.

"You thought he'd like you back. But he doesn't. And that hurts."

He swallowed, and nodded. She looked over at him with a little smile.

"But it feels better, right? Knowing?"

Grant laughed and shrugged.

"I don't know. There's still...pressure there on my chest. Weight. I feel weighed down. I just don't know why."

They stared up at the stars, and then he felt Killah watching him again. He looked at her.

"Then maybe there's something different you need to get off your chest."

Grant stared at her, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Someone you like. Someone _else_ you like."

He swore and looked away at the person who came to mind. 

She smiled a bit, and it was only a few seconds longer, but he could tell when she stood up.

"You need to tell that person, Grant. I think that'll make the weight ease a bit more."

He heard her footsteps retreating, and glanced back.

"Killah. How the fuck am I supposed to tell him?"

Killah smiled at him, shrugged.

"You'll feel it, you'll know. It'll be the right thing to do in that moment."

She vanished into the trees, and Grant stared after her into the darkness, then turned back towards the waterfall, staring at it.

"Any advice from you?"

All he got was the loud splashing of water, heard the low chirp of crickets, the soft rush of air around him. The weight stayed where it was, and without thinking, he poked at his chest.

"Get lost?"

The weight stayed firmly where it was, and he sighed, pulling his feet from the water and wrapping arms around his knees. His eyes flicked up to the stars again, and he stared up at them, then closed his eyes, whispering under his breath.

"Please...let me be able to tell him. Somehow. Please, damn it."

His hands shook and he ran his hands through his hair as fear overtook the weight in his chest, as anxiety demanded that he needed to get up and run-

"Grant?"

_Fuck!_

He turned his head to see Terry Jr. walking out of the darkness and up to the waterfall. Grant glanced up, watching him as he stood there, looked away when Terry Jr. looked down at him. He felt it when Terry Jr. sat next to him, saw it out of the corner of his eye.

He saw it when Terry Jr. stared at him, and just ducked his head further into his knees, not saying a word, hugging his legs to his chest.

"You doing okay?"

Grant shrugged softly, then peeked over at him.

"You okay?"

Terry Jr. shrugged and nodded.

"I've...honestly been better. But...I'm here."

_He's here._

He stared at Terry Jr., until it was so uncomfortable once he realized Terry Jr. was staring back, and then he looked away. It was another few seconds before Terry Jr. spoke up.

"I feel like we need to talk, if that's okay."

_Fuck, I hate those words._

"Sure, go for it. Let's talk."

He watched Terry Jr. take a deep breath, as if to steady himself, and felt anxiety flood him again.

"I want to tell you why I got so mad about what you told me. About Yeet."

The usual ache that had been piercing through him since he'd been rejected...never came. The weight was there, the heavy sort of thing pinning him there as he listened to Terry Jr. was still there.

_Where's the pain? I'm supposed to be in pain when I think about Yeet-_

As he stared at Terry Jr., barely able to half-listen, that was when he realized, when the weight started to lift off his chest, just barely.

That was when he realized just who he really had feelings for, had feelings for the entire time, since even before the damn road trip from hell.

_Holy shit. I like Terry._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry and Grant talk. Or rather, Terry talks, and Grant listens.

"You doing okay?"

_Terry, you fucking idiot, that might be the stupidest question you've ever asked._

The shrug he got in response had Terry sighing softly, eyebrows scrunching together in concern. But he still got comfortable where he sat next to Grant. 

_Here goes everything._

"You okay?"

Was he okay? Was he really honest to God okay? He didn't think he was, he hadn't been in awhile, but especially not recently, and especially not right at that moment.

"I've honestly been better. But I'm here."

He swallowed, tried to find the words he needed to voice. He couldn't just keep things from the other, not something like this. Not with everything that had happened so far.

"I feel like we need to talk, if that's okay."

Both he and Grant tensed at the words, and Terry froze. 

_I hate those words, why'd I say that, fuck-_

"I want to tell you why I got so mad about what you told me. About Yeet."

_God, this is terrifying._

Grant was looking at him, staring at him, and he tensed, arms wrapping around himself, knowing this wasn't a great topic to bring up to Grant, but knowing it really needed to happen right now rather than later.

"You told me what he did, and...I lost it. I got angry. I mean, obviously. You saw that. I just...he hurt you, and there's so many other ways he could have said it, and he _didn't_ and he's fucking stupid, and then we talked just barely and-"

His words got caught in barbed wire somewhere between his lungs and his mouth, silence settling between them, his fingers twisting in his shirt.

"And I kind of wondered why I reacted so strongly, and why I got so angry, and why it pissed me off so much, and I thought it was just 'oh, I'm being a good friend, being protective, trying to keep my friend from being hurt. But...that wasn't it."

His heartbeat started to pick up, and his fingers dug a little more in his shirt, and he felt Grant's eyes on him, staring him down, expecting answers that Terry Jr. could find every other phrase and word for except the one that was the most straightforward.

_I like you._

_I really like you._

_I'm sorry it took me this long to figure out, but goddamn-_

"I felt awful when I heard he rejected you, but I also felt relieved because...I mean, you didn't have to wonder anymore and-"

He swore and looked at Grant, who was still watching him with an almost blank expression, his eyes wide. Terry flailed a bit, panicked.

"Not that I'm happy he rejected you, I'm happy you got to move on from it, from him. Fuck, this is hard-"

Grant didn't say anything, and Terry Jr. continued to try to fill the silence, staring around the forest that chirped and rustled back at him. He swore his words would echo around in the darkness for years to come.

Which was a horrifying thought, he hated that.

He looked down at the pool they were sitting near, hoped the water would drag him in and keep him under just so he would _stop fucking talking_.

"I guess I'm just scared because I realized why I was upset, and it's not because of Yeet being an idiot, and not because he rejected you, and not because he showed up, and not because of...anything else, like trying to find our dads and stress."

He looked at Grant, actually held his gaze.

"It's because I like you. I _really like_ you. I have feelings for you. I think I have for awhile, I just didn't realize."

He tensed, looked away at the water again, eyes wide as he stared, tears threatening to burn down his cheeks.

"I know that's a bombshell, and you probably really don't need this sort of thing right now, like you _really_ don't need this right now. This kind of stupid admission is the last thing you need."

"We're friends, I'm not supposed to _like_ you. We're supposed to be okay, and this makes it not okay. And you probably never thought of me that way, but this hit me like a bus, and I talked to Yeet, and _I think_ he figured it out before I did, which is fucking _weird_ , let me tell you, and now I'm here, rambling like an insane person to you, and you're not saying a word, and I definitely fucked everything up and I'm sorry and we don't have to ever come back to this, but I needed to tell you so you knew why I was, why I _am_ acting like an idiot-"

Whatever jumble of words that were going to escape him were cut off, and a different kind of shock flooded him as he realized Grant had kissed him, _was_ kissing him, at that moment. 

His heart raced, his anxiety did this odd sort of thing where it froze, not quite expecting the shock that came with the person he was confessing to kissing him mid-confession, much less the guy who'd been his friend for a while now.

He kissed him back, and rather quickly, it was over, and Grant was sitting back away from him.

Terry Jr. felt butterflies go absolutely fucking wild in his stomach, and he stared at Grant, eyes wide, knew he looked, well he looke stupid, but he also looked shocked.

He had talked a lot, so he waited in the silence, watched Grant, hoped the other would say something, anything, explain why he had kissed him, respond in kind.

_Hey, by the way, I like you too._

_Like, no shit, you idiot. You just kissed me._

"Sorry. God, sorry, fuck, I...I have to go."

Another shock pierced through him, and he watched Grant stand up, brush himself off, and head back towards the house, his body frozen as his mind raced, and his anxiety skyrocketed once again, his hands shaking, tears threatening to burn down his cheeks again.

_What the fuck?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, everyone. Hope you enjoy this chapter. <3 I'll try to post more consistently again. Mental health took a dive for the worst lately, and I'm just now getting out of it.


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